


Mi Casa es tu Casa

by MalMuses



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A little pining but mostly fluff, Accountant Castiel (Supernatural), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bar Owner Gabriel (Supernatural), Bonding Over Trashy TV, Dom Castiel, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, IT Director Sam Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Maintenance Worker Dean Winchester, Miscommunication, Phone Calls & Telephones, Phone Sex, Romance, Texting, Two Person Love Triangle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 01:09:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15674976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalMuses/pseuds/MalMuses
Summary: Castiel Novak has a dull, predictable life. He's single, lonely, and lives with his cat. He's also had the same job at Sandover International for eight long years.Dean Winchester doesn't seem to be going anywhere. His job sucks, and his previous bad experiences have put him firmly back in the closet. He's spent so long looking after his brother, he doesn't remember how to have anything for himself.Everything changes for them both when Castiel's brother talks him into partnering on a new business venture - Casa2, an LGBT-friendly venue in their small, conservative town.Working in the bar at night, Castiel begins receiving phone calls from a cautious-but-charming mystery man 'Armando'. His new acquaintance is trying to get up the courage to come out to more people than just his brother, and Castiel finds himself invested in helping. An odd phone-friendship blooms, as they both turn out to be just what the other needs.Trying not to either risk his job or let down his brother, Castiel finds himself torn. Would Armando ever want more than friendship from him? Or should he beg the sexy new maintenance man at his office to come and fix all his problems...---





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU that jumped to mind while I was attempting to finish my DCBB for this year. It just wouldn't stop bothering me, so just to get it out of my system - here it is. 
> 
> The trope I've used here, called a [ 'Two-Person Love Triangle' ](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TwoPersonLoveTriangle) was thrown into my imagination by the awesome [ Dr PorcupineGirl ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcupineGirl/pseuds/PorcupineGirl)and her fantastically satisfying fic,[ Go Down With This Ship ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8023642/chapters/18370474), which you should definitely go and read if you haven't already.
> 
> The second person responsible for this is my sexy Latinx telenovela consultant, [ PieDarling.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PieDarling) Muchas gracias, mi hermosa amiga!
> 
> I also want to give a shout out to my fantastic alpha/beta peeps, [ andimeantittosting ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saylee/pseuds/andimeantittosting) and [ SOBS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/son_of_a_bitch_supernatural/pseuds/son_of_a_bitch_supernatural). All the love for you, members of my spectacular writer-harem.
> 
> A note about the fic: I reference a lot of LGBTQIA+ themes in this fic. I would like to say I have tried to be as inclusive as possible, but there's always a chance I slipped up somewhere. Also, that acronym is a nightmare to type. So please, anywhere that you read the term "LGBT" within the fic, take that as an umbrella term to include **anybody** who relates, rather than a specific 'LGBT' only term. 
> 
> If you come across anything in the fic that you feel should be specifically tagged, please don't hesitate to comment and let me know - I'm happy to do it.
> 
> Thank you for stopping by a reading! I always try to reply to comments so please let me know what you think!
> 
> \- Mal <3
> 
> P.S. This fic now contains not one, not two, but THREE amazing art pieces by the fantastically talented and lovely [Foxy!!](https://foxymoley.tumblr.com/)
> 
> \--- 

 

 

 

“Good evening, this is Casa2, can I help you?” Castiel rested his forehead awkwardly on the top of the mop handle as he answered the phone with one hand, trying to flick some errant water off the other without dropping the mop.

“Hi, uh, I’ve got a delivery of like… maybe twelve cases of condoms? But it looks like some of the boxes have—”

The deeply concerned voice – which Castiel grumpily thought sounded like it came from a twelve-year-old boy – fizzled out on the other end of the line.

“Hello? We need those for the opening, what’s wrong with them? Hello?”

There was nothing but static. After a moment, Castiel gave up and sighed, returning to his frenetic mopping.

The phone rang again.

“Good evening, this is Casa2, can I help you?” Castiel offered hopefully, quietly praying it was the condom kid again.

“Hello, I’m calling on behalf of the Walford Times, I have a telephone interview scheduled with Gabriel Novak?” A woman this time, sounding eager and enthused.

“Gabriel actually hasn’t made it to work today, Ms…?” Castiel tried his best not to sound exasperated.

“Milton, Tessa Milton. Do you have time to answer a few questions? We had intended to write an article covering the opening of Walford’s first LGBT-friendly venue, and—”

“I’m very sorry Ms. Milton,” Castiel interrupted gently. “My brother Gabriel is the one you’d really need to speak to. I really only work here in the evenings – could you perhaps call back in the morning?”

Sorting out the details with the newspaper reporter quickly, Castiel hung the phone back up with a thump, cursing under his breath.

 _Where the hell is Gabriel?_ Castiel thought angrily. His brother was famed for being late, but this was ridiculous.

Castiel had a staff meeting at eight o’clock in the morning. It was going on eleven and he was still cleaning up the mess that the contractors who had installed the backsplash behind the bar had left. He’d managed to get all the seating organized and dealt with the next batch of flyers they needed to distribute, but half of his to-do list was untouched. He only had so many hands, after all.

The phone rang again.

“Hello,” he said tiredly, with little enthusiasm, “this is Casa2, what do you need?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” The voice on the other end was that of a very uncertain-sounding adult male.

“Well, try telling me what you want and I’ll try and work it out for you.” Castiel sighed, sliding the mop bucket across the floor with his foot.

It sloshed dirty water all over his new work shoes. Of course.

“I, uh, my brother gave me this flyer saying that this new place was opening and that there might be some, uh, support groups and stuff?”

 _Oh_. Castiel ignored the mop bucket, feeling guilty and immediately giving his full attention to the call.

“Yes, that’s right. My brother Gabriel and I are just opening this place, though it’s really more his project. I just do the books,” Castiel offered in a friendly, open tone. “We definitely want to open the doors during the day to meet-ups and support groups for local yo—well, people who need a safe space. Are you looking to sign up?”

“I, uh, I’m not really sure.”

Castiel was glad he’d caught himself before inferring local youth, because the voice at the end of the phone, he decided, sounded at least thirty.

“You aren’t sure if you need to, or if you want to?” Castiel questioned carefully.

He rolled his eyes as he noted Gabriel finally entering through the front door and strolling nonchalantly across the unfinished dance floor towards him.

“I mean that…” the voice on the end grew frustrated for a moment, “Look, I know I’m kinda gay, I don’t mean I’m unsure on that, I just mean I don’t know if I—”

“Hey, hey—” Castiel interrupted gently, holding his hand up in a placating gesture even though the caller couldn’t see him.

The mop flailed in the bucket without Castiel’s hold and tipped to the side, swiping at Gabriel as he passed.

“Let’s start again,” Castiel continued soothingly, “Yes, this is Casa2, the new bar opening just off of Main Street. We will be having support groups, several times a week. You’d be very welcome, no matter who you are, where you’re at in life, or what you still have to figure out.”

There was silence, for a minute, and Castiel began to wonder if it was just a prank call, or if the person was just too scared and had hung up. Eventually, a small response came.

“Okay, well, I guess I need to think about it a bit more. Thank you, uh, for your time. Sorry to bother you.”

They hung up before Castiel could insist that it was no bother.

 

***

 

“Clarence? Are you listening to me at all?” Meg, the department secretary, leaned provocatively over his desk, giving Castiel rather more of an eyeful of her cleavage than he wanted while working.

Meg had nicknamed Castiel after a character from some movie he’d never seen, and it didn’t bother him enough to ask her to stop. After all this time, it was probably too late to object.

Castiel had worked at Sandover as a financial auditor for nearly eight years, occupying the same desk and dealing with Meg for just as long.

“Yes, sorry Meg. Just tired,” he responded quickly, shaking the cobwebs out of his brain as he looked up at her.

They chatted for a few minutes about the accounts that were being dropped off for Castiel to audit, before she reluctantly left his office and gave him some peace.

He moved over to the window where he kept his electric tea kettle, flicking the switch to start brewing himself up something to help his exhaustion.

He’d been working at the bar way too late for someone who had another, full-time, bill-paying job to get to the next day. He and Gabriel had put everything into this venture, and he couldn’t afford to lose the job he had. Gabriel wasn’t the most reliable as it was, so Castiel was paying most of the bills on the bar at present, along with the bills for his modest apartment in town. Luckily, he didn’t have a partner or children to worry about, but he wouldn’t want his cat Miggles to go hungry.

His mind drifted while he waited for the water to boil for his tea. He thought back over some important points from that morning’s meetings that he needed to write down, and back over his evening at the bar – particularly the strange phone call from the man who hadn’t left a name. He hadn’t been polite or forthcoming in the slightest, but the phone call troubled Castiel in some way. The man had clearly needed some help, or someone to talk to.

Castiel remembered what it was like figuring out who he was when he was younger; he couldn’t imagine having to do it alone as an adult.

Eyeing his tea kettle suspiciously, Castiel gave the cord a tug. It didn’t seem to be doing anything, and with a sigh, he realized the socket wasn’t working. Great. Now he was going to have to put a call in to maintenance.

The only thing worse than dealing with the angry woman who ran the maintenance department, was dealing with the idiots she hired. Castiel himself knew plenty of people who were capable with their hands and perfectly personable. So why did the people Naomi hired always have to be either useless or unpleasant?

For years, there had been Rufus, an old and crotchety man who a least knew what he was doing. But after he retired they’d been landed with a young guy named Kevin, who seemed very sweet but totally incapable of wielding so much as a screwdriver. Castiel hesitated on the phone call, thinking that maybe he’d just bring some tools from home and take a look at it himself. Sourly, after a few minutes, he admitted that he probably wouldn’t do any better than the useless kid, so he would let someone else worry about it.

“Maintenance?”

“Naomi, hello. This is Castiel Novak from building two, in the finance—”

“I know who you are, Castiel. What’s the problem?” Naomi sounded, as always, as if she’d rather torture Castiel than help him.

“One of my plug sockets isn’t functioning. I was wondering if Kevin could—”

“Kevin got relocated to building four; there was an incident with the elevator doors last week. I’ll have to send the new guy. He’s working on the insulation in your building right now, so I’ll have Zac quickly reassign him.”

Naomi hung up before Castiel could thank her or ask any more questions.

 _Another new guy?_ Castiel sighed to himself. _What fresh hell is this?_

 

***

 

It was almost five by the time Castiel got out of his final meeting of the day. They’d all had to stay around after the figures were presented, watching a small introductory presentation by the new director of the IT department. The long-haired, smiling giant of a man had given his name as Sam, seeming nervous but perfectly pleasant. _Kind of cute, too_ , Castiel thought idly; though he’d never pursue anything at work, with anyone.

He wasn’t out at work. In this conservative town, in a company owned by Bartholomew Styne no less, it wasn’t wise. Though Castiel had his suspicions that Meg had picked up on his sexuality a couple of years back, when he was dating his last serious boyfriend. Balthazar had come to the office a couple of times, and Meg hadn’t tried to shove her boobs in his face as much since. At least not on a good day.

“Hey Clarence,” Meg drawled lazily from her desk as Castiel made his way back into the finance department. “Maintenance stopped by your office. Your socket is fixed already.”

“Oh? The new guy knows what he’s doing?” Castiel commented distractedly, juggling his files.

“Oh, Clarence,” Meg said his name with crisp intonation, clearly ready to impart some important information, “new guy looks like he is very good at handling tools. Hopefully a few other things too, because he is a hottie with a _body_ , if you know what I’m saying. Cute face and a total brick-house stud, to boot.”

Meg winked and fanned herself jokingly.

“Keep it work-appropriate, Meg,” Castiel responded with a slight smile, shaking his head. He moved on past her desk to head on into his office, just the tiniest bit disappointed he’d missed out on the apparent eye-candy in the department.

 _No harm in just looking,_ he defended mentally, _even if this stupidly conservative company would fire me for even thinking about anything else._

For the longest time, his brother Gabriel had tried to persuade Castiel that the two of them should leave town and head out to another state, where they could both live more freely. Gabriel was, as Castiel had always termed it in his own mind, fabulously pansexual. He wanted who he wanted and never stopped to think about it any further than that – and he had a great time doing it.

An event promoter ever since college, Gabriel had been the one to pitch the idea of opening Casa2 to their family a few years back. The Novaks had shut him down in no uncertain terms, but after a few years of careful planning and persuasion, Castiel had stepped up to help him where the rest of their family would not.

Gabriel had clashed viciously over his sexuality (or in fact his entire personality) with their parents and older brothers Michael and Raphael when Castiel was a child. It was more than likely that growing up watching them disown Gabriel had been what made Castiel so much more cautious than his older brother was.

Cautious, though, didn’t mean he wasn’t perfectly comfortable liking what he liked – so he couldn’t help hoping that something else in his office would break soon.

Dropping his armload of files and meeting minutes onto his desk, Castiel reached into his pocket to check his cell phone.

 

  

> **Gabriel:** Did the condoms not get here last night? How am I supposed to make hilarious dick displays without them!
> 
> **Castiel:** Something was up with the delivery. You call them. I didn’t have time between doing all of your work.
> 
> **Gabriel:** Rough day?
> 
> **Castiel:** Sorry. That was mean.
> 
> **Gabriel:** It’s fine. I have a date tonight. Could you stay at the bar in case they try to deliver again?
> 
> **Castiel:** Sure. Who’s the date?
> 
> **Gabriel:** Sexy IT guy who took one of our fliers at the farmers market last week. I’m gonna make sure he gets some sugar to balance out those veggies  >:D
> 
> **Castiel:** How are we related, again?

 

***

 

Gabriel’s date must be going well, Castiel decided, as it was after eleven and he still hadn’t returned. Climbing down from the chair he’d been balanced on, Castiel stepped back to admire his handiwork. The rainbow-colored banner looked great above the bar and complemented the streamers weaving back and forth across the ceiling perfectly.

The bar was due to open on Saturday, and press from all the nearby towns would be there. They had just four days to put the final touches to everything, but after an evening of hard work, Castiel was feeling much more confident.

He stepped back behind the bar to retrieve his phone, sending Gabriel a quick text to check in on him.

 

> **Castiel** : Let me know you haven’t been murdered for being too forward.
> 
> **Gabriel:** I’m fine bro. Don’t make me send pictures, you wouldn’t like them.
> 
> **Castiel:** Gross. Going well then?
> 
> **Gabriel:** I’m in love. The things he can do with these long legs…
> 
> **Castiel:** Never text me again.

 

Castiel shook his head, fondly. Keeping track of Gabriel’s escapades was honestly a handful, but not too difficult considering he didn’t have any of his own to think about. The two brothers did things very differently, and Castiel couldn’t imagine living Gabriel’s life – but he certainly didn’t begrudge him it.

Reaching for another roll of bright yellow streamer paper for the front window, Castiel was about to head out from behind the bar when the phone rang.

“This is Casa2,” he answered quickly, tucking the cordless phone under his ear so he could carry on working.

“Uh, hi. Are you the guy I spoke to yesterday?”

Castiel halted, standing in front of the window.

“Yes, I think I probably am – you called about the support groups? My name is Castiel,” he offered, quite relieved that the guy had been brave enough to call back.

“That’s… kind of a weird name, dude,” the caller chuckled.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Castiel grinned into the phone, lowering himself into one of the new armchairs in the window nook, “I had kind of a weird family, honestly.”

“Don’t we all,” the man responded dryly. “I, uh, hope you don’t mind if I don’t give you my name. I mostly just wanted to apologize. I was worried I came off kinda rude last night, and you were just trying to help.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel responded gently. “It sounds like you’re still figuring yourself out some, or you know but you’re scared of other people knowing. That’s perfectly fine. You’ve got to go at your own pace, and I didn’t think you were rude. Honestly, I was having kind of a bad night myself.”

“I’m pretty figured out, but… yeah,” the caller responded quietly. “Most of the people I know, and my job… I worry.”

Castiel frowned, but it was a familiar refrain. “I understand that. I’m not out at work, either. But at least my family support me. Well, some of them. One of them, actually.”

“Your brother Gabriel?”

“Yes,” Castiel blinked. “How did you know?”

The voice seemed kind of embarrassed, for a moment. “Sorry. Last night you mentioned you and your brother were going to host the support groups – I guess Gabriel isn’t one of those names that’s easy to forget.”

Castiel laughed, relaxing back against the padded back of the chair. “Oh! Right. Thought I had a nameless stalker for half a second there,” he teased. “Do you think you’re going to make it to one of the support groups?”

There was silence for a moment, then a nervous sigh. “No, uh, I don’t think so. I’m sure they’d help, but honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking. My brother tried to push me, but I’m really not one for sitting around in a circle and sharing.”

“That’s a shame,” Castiel answered honestly. “Having other queer-spectrum people to talk to can be very reassuring. Hiding things from people can be very lonely, mystery-man.”

The caller chuckled at the name, “Yeah. You aren’t wrong. I guess you could just call me… Armando.”

“Uh,” Castiel took a moment to consider his wording, biting his lip so as not to laugh. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, I don’t want to offend you, but you really don’t sound like an Armando.”

“Are you saying I’m not a sexy latinx actor who stylishly saves lives every Monday and Thursday from three ‘til four?”

“You’re seriously going with the Doctor Sexy alias?” Castiel laughed openly this time, his streamers long abandoned on the arm of the chair. “Fair enough, Armando.”

“You know that show?” the faux-Armando’s voice was oddly eager, and Castiel found it made him smile.

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter now contains art by the glorious [Foxymoley!](https://foxymoley.tumblr.com/)

 

Castiel had been so tired when he woke up that he almost forgot to feed Miggles, and the cat attached itself to his ankles at an inopportune moment and almost made him fly headfirst down the stairs.

“Killer cat,” he mumbled, reopening the apartment door so that he could step back inside to feed the persistent creature. Miggles ignored his efforts, and entered through the cat-flap regardless.

Carefully scooping out the correct amount of dry cat kibble into Miggles’ bowl, Castiel considered that at least one night this week, he was going to need to get some more sleep.

He had several large accounts to audit on his desk, and a big presentation on them the following week. This weekend, Casa2 was supposed to open to the public, and he couldn’t take time off work to prepare without risking tipping Sandover off that he was working at the bar. Which, given their CEO Bartholomew’s stance on ‘letting go’ LGBT employees, probably wouldn’t be good for his career.

He scowled down into the cat food, promising himself, again, that one day he’d get out of this town or find somewhere else to work.

Petting Miggles goodbye, Castiel hurried down to his old Lincoln Continental to drive to work. Gabriel jokingly called the vehicle Castiel’s ‘pimp-mobile’, which was only funny because just one person had ever sat in it since he bought it, and that was Castiel himself. Balthazar had refused to ride in it, and they’d broken up nearly three years before. A pimp, Castiel was not.

Exactly sixteen minutes later, he arrived at the office, and three minutes after, at his desk. Castiel’s life was predictable (dull, Gabriel called it), but he liked it that way, mostly. It was easier, he’d decided long ago, to focus on perfecting what he had, rather than seek out anything new.

Before he opened up his work email, Castiel quickly pulled out his phone to text Gabriel. 

 

> **Castiel:** Another date tonight?
> 
> **Gabriel:** How did you guess!
> 
> **Castiel:** Because you’ve been out with the lanky IT guy every night this week. When do I get to finally meet him?
> 
> **Gabriel:** When you tell me who you spent an hour talking on the phone with last night.

 

Castiel smirked. It was a loaded question, but he should have expected it from Gabriel.

On Monday night when Gabriel had been on his first date with his new interest, Castiel had ended up chatting with the mysterious Armando on the bar phone for almost twenty minutes. It turned out that they were both fans of the same kinds of trashy TV shows, with a particular fondness for tacky medical dramas and Spanish telenovelas. While it was strange to chat to someone he didn’t know the real name of, Castiel realized that as lonely as his life was, it was pleasant to have someone to talk to. And it seemed like Armando, whoever he might really be, desperately needed someone he could be honest with.

He had called back again the next night, with the excuse of wanting to the know the bar hours, just in case he was brave enough to venture in, one day. Castiel happily provided him with them, and they had chatted again, discussing their respective families.

It turned out that Armando hadn’t been in town long. He’d moved with his brother, who’d landed a great new job. They lived together, and he’d recently picked up a job at his brother’s company. Castiel had no idea what Armando did, but if he lived in town then Castiel couldn’t blame him for being hesitant about letting anyone know he was queer.

Castiel still had the man carefully labelled as ‘queer’ in his mind, although it sounded oddly academic, because he didn’t want to assume anything until he was told. He had his suspicions as to Armando’s sexuality from little clues in their conversations, but until he was comfortable saying it, Castiel definitely wouldn’t. He’d had that problem enough himself; he wasn’t about to inflict it on anybody else.

After their first couple of conversations, Armando had stopped offering a reason for calling. Yet, they had spoken every night this week. He usually called late, when Castiel was tidying up after whatever progress he and Gabriel had made getting the bar together. He found Armando oddly easy to talk to, and it seemed that he felt the same, as he kept calling. Castiel couldn’t have said that they were friends yet, but he felt like they could be.

It was now Friday, and the evening prior, Castiel had decided to broach the subject of such a friendship with Armando. He had cautiously offered the man his cell phone number, in case he wasn’t at the bar one night when Armando had a question or just needed someone to talk to.

Armando had been hesitant, but Castiel had quickly realized it was just that he didn’t want to seem needy or pushy, or have Castiel think he was a strange, lonely man who chatted with strangers for entertainment – though conversely, they both knew, the same point could have been made about Castiel.

By the end of the call Armando had relented, taking Castiel’s cell phone number just in case. He hadn’t texted yet, and Castiel wasn’t even sure that he would. But, he’d tried. It was the first time in years he’d even tried to make a friend, so it was no surprise that Gabriel had cottoned on to it.

   

> **Castiel** : A new friend. Or hopefully a new friend.
> 
> **Gabriel:** Fair enough, baby bro. I won’t pry. Just be safe.
> 
> **Castiel:** I’m not sure giving my phone number to someone I don’t know the name of could be considered ‘safe’, but I promise I’m fine
> 
> **Gabriel:** Once this opening is over this weekend
> 
> **Gabriel:** I am coming over and you’re explaining every bit of what you just said
> 
> **Castiel:** Okay. You have a deal.

 

***

 

“But they have to replace the insulation, Clarence,” Meg explained patiently, pointing up to the ceiling above his desk, “I know you have a lot to do, but surely you can leave for half an hour while Dean uses the attic entrance above your desk?”

“Dean?” Castiel raised an eyebrow, relenting reluctantly and gathering up a few files. Hopefully, he could perch at the end of Anna’s desk for a little while.

“The guy from maintenance. Now come on,” Meg tutted, grabbing a few files to help him move, “the longer you take, the longer I have to wait for my nice view.”

Castiel did rather well at hiding his eye roll, moving over towards Anna’s desk hopefully.

Her office was opposite his own, close enough that if he sat perched at the end of her workspace, he could see through the open door to his own desk.

He settled there reluctantly, before losing himself in his figures once more.

“Excuse me? Are you Clarence? Meg said this was his office...” The voice wasn’t very clear.

Castiel wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Anna had gone off to a meeting, and he had been poring over the slightly imbalanced accounts he needed to fix before the end of the following week. He looked up at the interruption of the oddly muffled voice.

A pair of sparkling, candy-apple green eyes peeked at him over the top of a white face mask, worn to keep the wearer’s lungs clear from tiny bits of insulation, he assumed.

“Yes?” Castiel gulped awkwardly, desperately trying to make sure he didn’t noticeably rake his eyes up and down the tan, muscled body that stood in the doorway of his office.

Dean, as Meg had called him, definitely deserved the ‘hottie with a body’ moniker.

“I’m done in your office, but I need to screw the ceiling tile back over the entrance, and I didn’t want to get my dusty feet all over the paperwork on your desk – would you mind holding this chair a second so I can reach up and tighten them off?”

Castiel blinked. “Uh… sure.”

He took a moment to shuck off his suit jacket and roll up his shirt sleeves, not wanting to get dust all over them. When he stepped into his office, Dean was bent over on the floor, gathering up a handful of screws he seemed to have dropped.

“So,” Castiel asked politely, moving the chair under the ceiling tile for Dean to stand on, “you’re new here?”

“Yeah,” Dean responded as he stepped up, reaching his arms over head, “just started last week. Still trying to get my bearings and figure everybody out.”

“Oh?” Castiel choked out quietly, wondering how he was supposed to hold a conversation with Dean’s perfect, firm ass at his eye level.

Scolding himself for reacting like a sixteen-year-old, Castiel politely averted his eyes down to the floor as Dean responded.

“Some of the people here are, uh, interesting,” Dean muffled out from behind his facemask. “Naomi and Zac are real pieces of work,” he bluntly added.

Despite himself, Castiel laughed. “You aren’t wrong. But be careful. Zachariah Styne is the CEO’s cousin, and very similar in nature.”

Dean’s grunt of response told Castiel everything he needed to know about his opinion of Bartholomew.

Castiel smiled slightly at the carpet. “Still. We all need jobs, right?”

“We sure do, sir,” Dean responded politely, stepping down and immediately moving to the doorway. “All done, so I’ll be out of your way now. Thank you for the help.”

“No problem,” Castiel responded immediately, before turning to Dean’s retreating form, “Please, don’t call me—” But Dean had already rounded the corridor, hurrying away from Castiel, looking down at his phone with one hand and carrying his toolbox in the other.

“—sir,” Castiel finished with a sigh.

Gathering his files, Castiel muttered his way back to his desk. It seemed like awkward social interaction was going to be a theme this month.

 

[ ](https://ibb.co/FDpyBdv)

***

 

“You should have seen him, Sammy. I’m so glad he had his back to me, because I literally dropped my screws all over the floor when he took his suit jacket off – and that isn’t a metaphor for anything, though it might as well be.”

Sam laughed, settling into the rickety chair and loosening his tie as Dean brought their burgers over to the coffee table. “So, the auditor is handsome, huh?”

“Unbelievably so,” Dean confessed. “Took me half an hour to find an excuse to say anything to him, and then he had to go roll his sleeves up. I ran out of there faster than a hooker in sneakers.”

“Well, be careful. You know how conservative Sandover is. Maybe I already met him? I’m sure I met some finance people the other day,” Sam considered, “though I’ve met so many people this month, all the faces are blurring into one.”

“I can think of one face that might be sticking out,” Dean teased lightly, “Mister ‘same date every night this week.’”

Sam blushed slightly. “Yeah, well. No need to make a big deal of it.”

“Sure,” Dean drew out the word, leaning back into his chair and biting thoughtfully into one of his fries. “not a big deal. Need I remind you, you haven’t been on more than one date with anyone since Jess.”

Sam picked quietly at his food for a moment at the mention of his ex-fiancée's name, twirling his fork unnecessarily in his salad.

“It’s a guy, actually. He’s just a lot of fun. It’s been… refreshing, honestly.”

Dean felt a slow grin roll over his mouth. “Sam, that’s great. You haven’t dated a guy since Brady. What makes this one so special?”

Sam shrugged, still eyeing his salad. “I don’t know yet. We’ll see, I suppose.”

After a few minutes of quiet munching between them, Sam picked up a paper napkin and wiped his mouth, leaning back to settle his gaze on Dean.

“So, I shared. Now you’re going to tell me who you’ve been chatting to every night this week. Because this apartment is the size of a shoe box and I am not deaf.”

“Sneaky, Sam. Very sneaky, drawing me in like that.”

Dean shrugged, pushing his empty plate away. While he was more comfortable with Sam than anyone, Dean had never had the ease and openness that his little brother did. They both, silently and without having ever discussed it, attributed that to Dean spending many more years with their father than Sam had.The years Dean had spent caring for his alcoholic father while Sam was at school, before their lives were stable enough for Dean to join him, had been some of Dean’s toughest. He’d never been able to relax and be himself as Sam did.

“Just a guy from that new bar they’re opening downtown. A friend. Or, maybe a friend. We’ll see, I suppose,” Dean quietly responded, mimicking his brother’s phrase.

Sam and Dean looked at each other for a moment, just a quiet acknowledgment, before reaching for their beers.

“Some TV?” Sam suggested, pushing his chair back and indicating the small screen they’d finally hooked up at the other end of the tiny apartment.

“Sure,” Dean stretched before dawdling over to the couch, dropping down heavily into the pillows.

They fiddled with the TV and argued over programming for a minute, before settling on a cheesy B-movie. They turned their attention to their phones in comfortable silence, each at one end of the couch.

Dean held his phone somewhat nervously. He wanted to text Castiel, the dude at the bar who he’d spoken to every night that week.

 _Why am I nervous about this?_  Dean considered, frowning quietly at the screen.

“What’s up?” Sam asked him after a minute of squinting. “What did your phone do to you?”

Dean gave him a half smile. “Actually, I was trying to convince myself to text the guy from the bar. Who I haven’t met, and have no idea what he looks like.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Well, you’ve chatted plenty. And I guarantee you, he could be a five-hundred-pound neck-beard, and you’d still be doing better than some of the women you brought home in college.”

Dean snorted; Sam definitely wasn’t wrong.

His reluctance, though, was something else. He’d really enjoyed chatting to this guy, Castiel from the bar. But other than Sam, and the brief college fling with Aaron that had led him to realize he wasn’t totally for the ladies after all, Dean had never told anyone he wasn’t straight. Not even a friend. A few people had found out – but it had never gone well. He was terrified of being outed at work, which would lead to an immediate firing squad at Sandover, and his old friends had always known him as a bit of a lady-killer, up until now. Would making a new friend who knew different change anything? Was he ready for that?

Dean snuck a glance over at Sam, engrossed in his phone again already. How did Sam find all this stuff so easy? He’d never even told Dean that he was bisexual – he’d just turned up at a birthday party with Brady one day when he’d been in college, and that was it.

Dean’s finger hovered above the phone screen. Maybe it could be that easy for him too, if he just let it. _One step at a time,_ he thought. _We can chat some more, and then maybe I can at least give him my name and see if he wants to hang out sometime. Make a friend who actually knows you, Dean,_ he urged himself.

   

> **> > **Hey, Castiel. (Did I spell that right?) This is your mystery phone caller, from the bar. Just wanted to thank you for listening to me all week.
> 
>  

The response was almost immediate.

 

> **Castiel:** Hello, Armando. Yes, that is the correct spelling. I told you my parents were weird. No need to thank me, I enjoyed talking to you.
> 
>  

Dean took a moment to think how to respond, nervously reading the text over and over as the movie rolled on without him taking any of it in. The text didn’t have an explicit invitation to chat, but Castiel did say he enjoyed talking to him.

   

> **> >** I guess you’re probably pretty busy what with Casa2 opening tomorrow
> 
> **Castiel:** Yes. My brother has left me with 12 cases of condoms and disappeared off to pick up our new bartender from the airport
> 
> **> >** 12 cases of condoms?? Dude, do you have a boyfriend he doesn’t like or something? Is he trying to give you some kind of hint to get out there more?
> 
> **Castiel** : I’m very single, but that would be just like my brother
> 
> **Castiel:** Actually, he wants me to make balloons out of them
> 
> **> > **…balloons
> 
> **> >** Like, to display at the bar?
> 
> **Castiel:** Yes. They look better than you’d think

 

Dean wasn’t quite sure what to respond, but after a moment a picture of a bar – Casa2’s bar, he had to assume – covered in brightly colored inflated condoms came through to his phone.

He grinned, quickly texting back.

 

> **> >** They actually look cool, Cas.
> 
> **Castiel:** Gabriel has quite an eye for stuff like that. Cas?
> 
> **> >** Well I’m not typing out Castiel every time.
> 
> **> >** I guess I’ll leave you to prepare for your opening, don’t want to hold you up
> 
> **Castiel** : I do have a lot to do. Are you going to come out and join us tomorrow?
> 
>  

Dean bit his lip slightly, considering.

 

> **> > **I’ll think about it.


	3. Chapter Three

 

> **Castiel:** I don’t want to go to work. Tell me I can earn money at home with my cat
> 
> **Armando:** Rule 34. I bet you could earn money that way.
> 
> **Castiel:** You are disgusting.
> 
> **Castiel:** But not wrong.
> 
> **Armando:** Drive safe to work. There’s an accident on 42
> 
> **Castiel:** Thanks

 

***

 

 

> **> >** I forgot to bring my healthy lunch my brother so kindly made me. Oops?
> 
> **Castiel:** You are a terrible brother
> 
> **Castiel:** But I’m a very fussy eater so I’m with you
> 
> **> > **Subway or Burger King
> 
> **Castiel:** Burger King of course. Subway has too much lettuce
> 
> **> > **Screenshotting this as proof Sam is wrong

 

***

 

 

> **Castiel:** Hey. How was your erdxcfvbuiopjh
> 
> **Armando:** Are you having a stroke? Can you smell toast?
> 
> **Castiel:** Sorry. Miggles likes to sit on my phone while I try and text.
> 
> **Armando:** Miggles?
> 
> **Castiel:** [A photograph of a huge, fluffy, somewhat grumpy-looking cat.]
> 
> **Armando** : Okay. Kind of cute, Miggles is allowed to text. But not come near me without allergy meds.

 

***

 

 

> **Castiel:** Today sucked
> 
> **Castiel:** I knew I should have stayed home and pimped out my cat
> 
> **Armando:** Now who’s disgusting
> 
> **Castiel:** Still you, and you know it
> 
> **Armando:**  >:D
> 
> **Castiel:** My brother texts that face to me all the time. At least I know you are not him, because he lives across the hall and I can hear him staggering in drunk from another date
> 
> **Armando:** My bro is on a date too. Suddenly he’s all social and I am forever alone
> 
> **Castiel:** Don’t say that when I’m in the same boat, assbutt
> 
> **Armando:** True. At least I get to watch my shows alone
> 
> **Castiel:** Which show?
> 
> **Armando** : Dame Chocolate!
> 
> **Castiel:** Haven’t seen it
> 
> **Armando:** DUDE. Call me, we’re gonna watch it right now.

 

***

 

 

> **> > **Work is crappy and I’m bored, so….hey, Castiel :)
> 
> **Castiel:** Hey, Armando. Last night was fun.
> 
> **> > **Dude I am so glad you liked the show
> 
> **Castiel:** I did! More tonight?
> 
> **> >** Sure. I finish work at 5
> 
> **Castiel:** Me too
> 
>  


	4. Chapter Four

Gabriel dropped two pizza boxes down onto Castiel’s glass coffee table, plopping himself down on the leather couch simultaneously.

“Got you just the cheese kind,” he shouted over to the kitchen, “mister fussy-eater.”

As he sat down, Castiel knocked his knee into Gabriel’s to tell him to shut up, handing over a beer bottle. He was still in his work clothes, but his shirt was untucked and his suit jacket long gone. 

It was a Monday, and Castiel felt like he hadn’t stopped moving all weekend. The opening of the bar two weeks before had been a huge success, with people from neighboring towns and cities all pouring in to support the only openly LGBTQ establishment for nearly a hundred miles. Since then, trade had been steady and Gabriel had needed all hands on deck while he hired and trained some staff.

Gabriel hadn’t even had time to come over and hang out. Even his new boyfriend, Castiel suspected, had been a little neglected. Hopefully, the mysterious IT guy was understanding.

“Your phone was blowing up while you were in the kitchen,” Gabriel kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, toeing Castiel’s phone towards him across the glass, “and my battery is dead, so I know it wasn’t me.”

Castiel smiled slightly at Gabriel’s silliness, reaching to swipe the phone off the surface before his brother could get any ideas about taking it himself.

“It was just Armando,” Castiel replied distractedly, tapping away at the screen. Grabbing a slice of pizza, he leaned back into the pillows. “What do you want to watch?”

“Anything, as long as it’s not those awful drama things you enjoy.” 

Gabriel watched out of the corner of his eye as Castiel’s phone screen lit up again, and his brother turned back to it immediately.

“Cassie?” he asked after a second.

“Hmm? Oh.” Castiel blinked, putting the phone back down somewhat reluctantly. “Yeah, we don’t have to watch any of my shows. I know you hate them. What about one of those comedies you like? There should be something on Netflix.” 

Castiel grabbed the remote from his arm of the couch, tossing it over to Gabriel before he returned to tapping on his phone.

Gabriel smiled quietly to himself, and for just a moment, thought he had control of himself enough not to say anything. But of course, he was wrong.

“Armando?” Gabriel rolled the name around his tongue. “Got yourself a latin lover I don’t know about? Because bravo, if so.”

“No, that’s not really his name, and there’s nothing latinx about him. He’s from Kansas.” Castiel’s eyes didn’t leave the phone.

He and Armando had texted back and forth constantly ever since the bar had opened, joking and sharing little bits of their day. Armando hadn’t made it to the bar opening, or any night since, but Castiel hadn’t really thought that he would. He didn’t seem ready for that kind of thing, and Castiel wasn’t going to push.

“You do realize how little sense you’re making, right Castiel?”

Picking nervously at his beer label (though he didn’t really know why), Castiel explained everything to Gabriel at length.

Gabriel was surprisingly quiet.

When he finished talking through everything, Castiel looked up. He was waiting for Gabriel to make some kind of comment about him being a loner and needing more friends, or being terrible at social interaction. Instead, Gabriel just sat, smiling at him oddly.

“What?” Castiel asked cautiously, eyeing Gabriel with no small amount of suspicion.

“Castiel,” Gabriel nudged him with his knee, but his voice was surprisingly gentle. “Do you even realize that you’re crushing on someone you don’t even know the name of?”

Castiel opened his mouth to protest, but his suddenly heated cheeks made a liar of him before he even tried. 

Instead, he settled for pulling a pillow off the couch and covering his face with it, groaning into the fabric as he rolled into a fetal position on the seat.

“What am I doing Gabriel? Tell me I’m crazy.”

Gabriel patted Castiel on the shoulder lightly, taking a sip of his beer.

“Yup. You’ve had some odd crushes, Cassie, but this takes the cake.”

 

***

 

Upon entering his office on Tuesday morning, Castiel was welcomed with a wall of heat. Dropping his briefcase down onto his chair, he immediately shucked off his favorite trench coat and slipped out of his suit jacket, muttering quietly under his breath.

Flipping quickly through the corporate phone directory, he dialed Naomi.

“Maintenance,” she snapped boredly through the phone. He wondered if he’d ever heard her sound happy.

“Good morning,” Castiel was gently professional despite the maintenance manager’s eternal bad mood, “there seems to be something wrong with the central heat and air in the auditor's office. The rest of finance seems fine, but it’s…”

Castiel paused to squint at the thermostat on the wall.

“…nearly 90 degrees in here.” 

There was a sigh from the other end of the phone. “I’ll page Dean. He should be in the building.”

As usual, Naomi hung up before Castiel could respond any further. 

Dropping his briefcase to the floor so that he could slump into his desk chair, Castiel pulled awkwardly at his tie and considered removing his shoes. How much clothing did he really have to wear in a professional setting, when it was this hot?

The ancient intercom system that all of the Sandover buildings were equipped with crackled to life out in the corridor, with Naomi’s crisp voice snapping a blunt order.

“Maintenance announcement, Dean to finance. Report to audit office for thermostat check. Dean to finance department.”

He dug around in his briefcase, thinking that he’d drop Armando a quick text to complain about the heat. That’s what they seemed to do these days, just chat back and forth about everything like old friends. Once he had his phone in hand, though, he saw that Armando had already beaten him to it on the texting front.

 

> **Armando** : Good morning, Cas :)
> 
> **Armando** : Is it weird to text you good morning? Hmm
> 
> **Armando:** It’s probably even weirder to text you asking if its weird to text you, so I’ll stop

 

_ Adorable _ , Castiel couldn’t help thinking to himself as he grinned, typing a quick message back.

 

> **Castiel:** I don’t know if it’s weird, but I like it
> 
> **Castiel** : So I guess that makes it okay.
> 
> **Castiel:** Are you busy tonight? Inaugural meeting of my brother’s first LGBT support group is tonight. If you felt ready for that.
> 
> **Castiel:** I’m letting Gabriel handle that though and I will be home watching Dr Sexy reruns, if you just want to call me instead
> 
> **Castiel:** No pressure

 

Castiel sent the text off quickly, doubting that Armando would want to attend Gabriel’s group, but at least wanting to give him the option.

The little they’d covered on the topic in their long phone chats and texts seemed to indicate that Armando was very comfortable with who he was himself, and that he didn’t really need any help figuring stuff out, but he had only ever really been out to his brother.

Armando’s other family, it seemed, did not approve and he didn’t seem to have many friends, his focus for most of his life having been on raising his little brother in his mother’s absence. 

Dropping the phone back into his briefcase, Castiel mused that Armando didn’t seem to be very aware of the fact that most teenage boys wouldn’t have dropped their own life to become a surrogate father to their little brother. He had raised Sam without any real help from their alcoholic father, as far as Castiel could make out. 

Armando was a good man and he deserved to be able to live his own life now. 

Unfortunately, if he lived anywhere in town – which Castiel suspected he likely did, as he had some kind of proximity to Casa2 – he was probably surrounded by the same old, conservative attitudes that Castiel struggled with at work. It made things trickier, when your job might be on the line. 

That was the kind of thing that Gabriel had come back to town after college determined to change.

A bead of sweat trickled down Castiel’s brow as he flicked through his drawer of neatly organized files, pulling out the papers he needed to run over to the legal department that morning. He was frowning slightly, thinking about the unfairness of treating people differently based on who they liked to have sex with (or even whether they liked to at all), and didn’t notice Dean walking up the hallway until he rapped his knuckles on the open office door.

“Hey, Clarence,” came Dean’s muffled voice through his white safety mask, “I was working on the insulation over in HR, and Naomi yelled at me on the intercom to stop by here—”

Dean’s eyes widened slightly as he stepped into the warm room. He looked over at Castiel as he stood up from his desk. He was fixing Dean with an apologetic look as he loosened his tie, a pile of papers tucked into the crook of his arm.

“—is it hot in here, or is it just me?” 

Castiel could tell Dean was grinning from the way his cheeks plumped up over the top of the mask and his eyes twinkled, and the look gave him little butterflies in his stomach.  _ Damn this guy is handsome, _ Castiel thought with slight irritation.  _ If I’d met him absolutely anywhere else… _

“It, uh, yes. It’s definitely hot in here,” Castiel blustered quietly, embarrassed to look so flustered and sweaty when he was supposed to be professional. At least the heat would help hide the fact that  _ Dean _ made him flustered and sweaty.

Indicating to the files he held, Castiel moved around the desk and squeezed past Dean in the doorway, trying to ignore the fact that doing so meant Dean’s body was only inches away.

Looking back over his shoulder, Castiel called back to Dean, “You do your thing in there, Dean – I have to head over to legal. I know you can handle your tools just fine without me.”

He’d gone a few steps before he registered Dean’s laughter in the room he’d left, and his cheeks started to burn.

_ What the hell did I just say? _

Rolling his eyes heavenward, Castiel escaped quickly out of the department.

  
  


***

 

Dean dropped his little bag of tools onto the floor near Clarence’s desk, chuckling to himself. The auditor wasn’t just incredibly hot, with a winning smile and the bluest eyes Dean had ever seen – he was unintentionally hilarious, even with his serious expression and thoughtful disposition. 

He was careful not to let it show, but visiting the finance department was always the highlight of Dean’s work week. Meg was friendly and fun, Anna and Miriam and all those other unnamed suits that he saw were pleasant enough, but Clarence – well, Dean was slightly embarrassed, given his age, by how weak at the knees Clarence made him. He was going to have to be very careful.

Eyeing his tool bag, he decided to take a look at the settings first and make sure nothing had been altered before he examined the hardware itself. He wiped his hands on his dark grey Sandover-mandated coverall and stepped up to the wall. 

He left his white safety mask on – he’d learned the hard way the past couple of weeks that anytime he moved it, tiny prickles of insulation material got under the edges and stabbed at his skin around his mouth and jaw. It wasn’t comfortable and the rash it produced wasn’t attractive, so Dean had taken to leaving the mask on until he was headed back to the maintenance office, where he could wash his face. 

There had been several times though, he admitted to himself sheepishly, where he’d wanted to tug the mask down and smile at Clarence, just to see if he’d smile back. It was like he had a deep-seated need to flirt with the handsome auditor that he struggled to keep suppressed. He really was going to have to be careful.

Fiddling with the thermostat settings, Dean let his attention wander away from the mundane task.

Castiel had texted him while he was walking up the steps to finance, responding to Naomi’s crowing call over the intercom system. The messages had been an invite to the first support group meeting that Gabriel was going to host at Casa2, and Dean was torn over his response.

He didn’t really feel like he needed to sit in a circle and talk about his feelings, like, ever. That was just very far from where Dean was comfortable. But he knew Sam had given him that flyer about the bar opening for a reason. (Well, given, was pushing it. He’d slid it under the bathroom door while Dean was showering and then run away.) 

While Dean no longer had any issues understanding who he was or who he liked, he still harbored a lot of anxiety about being out in public. His previous attempts hadn’t gone so well. When John Winchester found out about his supposedly “deviant” sons, he disowned them both. Later, working at a garage in California while Sam finished up grad school, he’d been bullied and pressured out of his job by his hateful boss Alastair, who couldn’t stand to have Dean in the building after he found out.

With Sam’s fancy new job at Sandover, they’d moved here to make a new start. Sam had recommended Dean for a spot in the maintenance department, and Dean wasn’t about to let Sam down by being fired. Staying in the closet at work was one thing, he mused while he tapped his way through every setting in the electronic thermostat, but this town was woefully conservative, even outside of Styne Park.

Castiel wanted to change all that, he knew. He and his brother hoped that by opening Casa2 and bringing more LGBTQ people into the area, they could normalize their existence here and give them somewhere safe to be. He was intensely proud of his friend for his efforts; he just wasn’t sure where he fit into them. 

Castiel was very confident in his sexuality, that much was clear – it seemed like he’d figured everything out long before Dean had, and he didn’t hide from anyone outside of work. Dean wished he could be that brave. For now, the idea of being around a group of people who knew the truth made his heart race unpleasantly. 

Slamming shut the little plastic door on the thermostat perhaps a little more firmly than was necessary, Dean dug around in his pocket for his phone. 

He sighed, chewing at his lips for a minute before he carefully responded.

 

> **> > ** Thanks for inviting me, Cas. 
> 
> **> >** I don’t want you to think I don’t wanna come. I do, but it’s not something I feel ready to do yet
> 
> **> >** and it’s certainly not because of you. 
> 
> **> >** Can I join you with those Dr Sexy reruns instead? I could call you around 7?

 

Dean was relieved when Castiel responded almost immediately, like he’d been waiting on Dean’s texted response.

 

> **Castiel:** Of course you can
> 
> **Castiel:** You know I always enjoy our time together, our talks. 
> 
> **Castiel** : Come to the support group, or just the bar in general, whenever you feel ready. 
> 
> **Castiel:** I think it would be good for you, but it has no bearing on our friendship, Armando. I like hanging out with you every day so let’s just do that regardless. 
> 
> **Castiel:** I wasn’t trying to pressure you into anything, I’m sorry if it came off that way.

 

Dean felt the smile spreading across his cheeks under his mask. It was encouraging to have confirmation that Castiel enjoyed his company as much as Dean enjoyed his in turn. He’d definitely begun to hope that in the future, Castiel might want to hang out with him face-to-face. Maybe at the bar, if Dean could be brave enough. One day. He found himself wondering if Castiel was handsome, though he dismissed the thought just as quickly, realizing that it didn’t matter. 

 

> **> >** I didn’t think you were trying to pressure me dude, it’s fine
> 
> **> >** I like hanging out with you too Cas.
> 
> **> >** So Dr Sexy at 7, and then I have a whole list of other telenovelas I can expose you to. Be prepared! >:D
> 
> **Castiel:** You are such a dork
> 
> **> > ** Yeah yeah you like it
> 
> **Castiel:** You’re right… I do :)
> 
> **Castiel** : 7pm. I’ll be waiting!

 

Grinning to himself now, Dean slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned his attention back to the thermostat. He got it reset just as Clarence strolled through the door.

“Still here, I see. Any luck?” Clarence’s mood seemed better. His smile was crooked and gummy, and Dean thought it might kill him.

“Uh,” he cleared his throat inelegantly, “yeah, I changed some settings. It should cool back down soon. If it doesn’t hold the settings, though, and starts heating up again, we might just need a new thermostat.”

“Thank you, Dean.” Clarence nodded gratefully, moving around to sit back at his desk. “I appreciate your work.”

They both stared at each other for a second too long, and Dean felt his back prickle with sweat. He moved towards the door and ducked out in a hurry. He could feel himself begin to blush awkwardly and wanted to escape before Clarence could notice.

“Goodbye, Dean!” Clarence called down the hall after him, sounding slightly puzzled.

 

***

 

Replacing the insulation in the roof of the building seemed to be taking a very long time, Castiel mused. He knew that the maintenance department had to do it here and there around their other jobs, but it had been several weeks already. He wasn’t in the slightest bit bothered, though. 

If he was honest with himself, other than texting back and forth with Armando throughout the day, seeing Dean stroll into the building with his sandy hair, freckles and perfect body was the best part of Castiel’s work week. 

They were friendly enough, but Castiel knew better than to let himself get too close. There was nothing wrong though, he figured, with enjoying what there was to offer and harboring the tiniest little secret crush.

Meg, on the other hand, didn’t have to think about the same conservative-workplace issues that Castiel did. 

“Dean,” she purred enthusiastically as he strolled through the door, wearing worn jeans and a shirt with a band-name Castiel had never heard of, but suddenly appreciated due to the fit over Dean’s biceps.

“Morning, Meg,” Dean responded politely from behind his facemask, “I’ll be in and out a little bit, sorry if it bothers anybody.”

“Oh, none of us mind seeing you, Dean,” Meg grinned, leaning forward over her desk. 

Castiel was oddly pleased to note, from his spot beside the coffee machine near the other end of the room, that Dean made no effort to flirt back. He usually moved on smoothly from Meg’s overtures without responding much at all, he’d noticed.  _ Perhaps he has a girlfriend,  _ Castiel thought distractedly, smacking at the coffee machine with the heel of his hand, trying to persuade it to give him the last dregs of his drink.

He turned, hoping to be able to chat with Dean for a minute, but he was already heading on up the corridor. Castiel took a moment to appreciate his retreating form, staring rather more than was appropriate while no one could see. 

Dean looked back over his shoulder, directly at Castiel.

Feeling himself flush slightly, Castiel raised his hand awkwardly in a wave, attempting to cover his ogling as a friendly morning greeting. Dean stopped his walking, pressing the button for the elevator, but was still looking back at Castiel. Staring right at him, in fact. He raised his hand in turn, but rather than immediately waving, he reached up and pulled his mask down.

Behind the mask, it turned out, there was a delightful, crooked smile, attached to absolutely perfect lips.  _ Of course he has a heart-melting smile to go with all that,  _ Castiel thought with a little sigh. For now, at least, the smile was directed at him and he was free to enjoy it.

Dean gave a little wave before disappearing into the elevator, and Castiel returned it cheerfully before taking his terrible coffee back to his desk.

Castiel wasn’t usually much of a coffee drinker, preferring tea, but he’d been up late last night watching telenovelas with Armando. They’d chatted for several hours, as usual, and Castiel had listened to him wax lyrical about how the Colombian shows were the best, unless you asked certain Mexicans, who thought that their not-so-subtle remakes of other telenovelas were superior.

Castiel smiled to himself, shaking off his moment with the maintenance man and settling down into his office chair.  

Dean was cute, and he was definitely harboring a bit of a crush there. But, unless something significant in his office broke soon, it didn’t seem like he’d have the excuse to really talk to him much. Their occasional waves, smiles and muffled ‘good mornings’ would have to suffice – because, Castiel was forced to admit, Gabriel had been right, a couple of weeks back.

As awkward as it was, Castiel was starting to feel something for Armando, and he had no idea what to do about it.

 

> **Castiel:** A miracle is occurring, Gabriel
> 
> **Gabriel:** Immaculate conception? I’ll spread the word!
> 
> **Castiel:** Rarer. I’m asking you for dating advice.
> 
> **Gabriel:** Well you’ve come to the right place! Successful dater, right here.
> 
> **Castiel:** Speaking of, when do I get to meet this handsome, tall, bendy man you keep gushing over?
> 
> **Gabriel:** Soon, I swear. But more importantly – dating advice for you? Do you have a date?
> 
> **Castiel:** No. That’s kind of the problem, really. I want one. 
> 
> **Gabriel** : Let me guess
> 
> **Gabriel** : Your shy Senor, Armando
> 
> **Castiel:** I know you think I’m crazy. But we’ve been chatting every day for weeks and he makes me laugh
> 
> **Gabriel:** Has he ever said anything about wanting more? Wait – he is into dudes, right? Because if not you’re moving to Shakespearean levels of tragedy
> 
> **Castiel:** YES. Geez. We have at least spoken about that. He’s bisexual, just worried about being out around here. I think he had a bad experience and now he’s scared he’ll be fired or something
> 
> **Gabriel:** Oh, so he’s you but with added vagina appreciation

 

Castiel put the phone down on his desk for a moment to shake his head and drink down his coffee. His brother was an ass, quite often, but he was all Castiel had. Gabriel was older and had moved out of their parents’ home before Castiel, after clashing with the family so harshly. Nonetheless, he’d been right there, the second Castiel needed him, when he’d worked out he was gay in high school. He loved his brother fiercely, but their personalities were so different he was occasionally difficult to get along with.

Reaching back to send another text, he saw that Gabriel seemed to have had a change of heart.

 

> **Gabriel:** Look, I’m sorry I joked about it. I can tell that you really like this guy. I’m just worried about you. He could be anybody
> 
> **Castiel:** Not really, we talk every day. I know so much about his life. If I wanted to, I could probably easily look up numbers and details and work out his name or something, but that seems like a betrayal
> 
> **Gabriel:** Just promise me you’ll be careful
> 
> **Gabriel:** and go for it. Flirt a little, see what happens. Ask him out. Send him a string of dick pics. Whatever. Just do something about it Cassie, before it’s too late, please
> 
> **Gabriel:** because I was joking when I said you’d die alone and get eaten by Miggles, I don’t want it to actually happen
> 
> **Castiel:** Thank you… I think

 

***

 

“Hey,” Sam’s voice hovered somewhere to Dean’s right. A hand was shaking his shoulder. “Wake up, jerk.”

“Ugh,” Dean grumbled stiffly, sitting up, “what’dya wake me up for, bitch.”

He stared dully into space and realized that he was on the couch. Sam was in the process of locating the remote to turn off the TV, which seemed to have been on all night. Cracking his neck, Dean looked around to the arm of the couch and spotted his phone. He appeared to still be connected to Castiel – he’d obviously fallen asleep while watching TV.

He’d settled in to watch the latest episode of his current favorite trashy soap opera with Cas, and they’d been having such a good time he hadn’t wanted to go to bed. In fact, he’d been almost certain that Cas was flirting with him at one point. He vaguely recalled not wanting to hang up and go to sleep, settling for leaning onto a pillow on the couch and staying up instead.

Reaching for the phone, Dean realized with a grin that he could hear light snores on the other end of the line. At least he wasn’t the only one.

About to say something to Cas and try and wake him up, Dean became aware of Sam staring at him.

It was Saturday. Cas could sleep in. Dean hung up.

“Dean,” Sam began with his best brotherly voice, lowering himself down to sit on the couch, too, facing Dean.

“Yes, Sam?” Dean sighed, feeling like he was about to get a lecture on something, though he wasn’t sure what.

“Is there anything that you want to tell me about Castiel?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Well, I mean… are you together? Are you dating now? Do you realize that you’re half in love with the guy? Does he know your name?” Sam listed off some questions, raising his hands in a bewildered gesture. “There are so many places you could start, Dean.”

Dean groaned heavily. “If you think I’m discussing any of that before coffee, you’re dead wrong.”

Sam didn’t bother to respond, shaking his head and moving off to the apartment’s tiny kitchen. Their new home was starting to come together, but between Sam’s long hours and Dean’s general exhaustion after work, they hadn’t gotten all that far.

Trashing the old coffee grinds from the machine, Sam began to speak to the tiles above the sink. 

“Dean, listen. I’m not trying to pry. But you talk about this guy like he hung the moon, you know? Since we moved here you’ve smiled and laughed, and that’s been awesome to see, dude. Oh, and sleeping on the phone, watching tv shows together even though you’re apart? That’s stuff I did with Jess, Dean.”

They didn’t talk about Sam’s dead fiancée much, so it hit a nerve.

Sticking a fresh coffee filter in the pot, Sam spoke again. “Just because Sandover is owned by an evil, bigoted person, shouldn’t mean we can’t live our lives, Dean. I know you’ve always had to have a job and always worked like crazy to help me through school, but I’m an adult now, in case you haven’t noticed.” 

Sam seemed determined to get his soliloquy out, even if it was just to the kitchen wall.

“You don’t need to come out at work, particularly, but live your life. If anyone says anything, screw them, Dean. You can quit. You don’t have to take care of me, and I don’t think you’d miss anyone at work other than that hot accountant.”

Dean didn’t respond, and Sam finished up the coffee in silence, taking a mug over to his brother after it brewed.

“Dean—” Sam began to try again, sitting down on the edge of the coffee table so he could face his brother.

Dean held up a hand to interrupt. “I know that, Sam. I do. I’ve just always looked after you--that’s what I do; it’s who I am.”

“But it’s not all of what you are, Dean. You deserve something for yourself, and I think what you want is Castiel.”

Sam looked at him almost defiantly, and Dean knew he was right.


	5. Chapter Five

It was a dark, rainy Saturday night. Castiel made his way to his pimpmobile at the back of Casa2, glad to be done with his shift. Gabriel had hired two members of staff - Charlie and Hannah - and they were both wonderful. But if Gabriel stepped out for more than an hour or two, he felt better knowing Castiel was there. Castiel was getting worn pretty thin between Casa2 and his job, but he didn’t want to let his brother down.

Castiel slid into the front seat of the old Lincoln Continental, snapping his seat belt shut and pulling out of the lot before he dialed Armando’s number.

“Hey Cas,” Armando greeted him warmly. It never failed to warm Castiel’s heart how simply  _ happy  _ his friend always sounded to hear from him.

“Hey, sorry to call so late,” Castiel grinned as he turned onto the wet road home. 

“Are you done at the bar for the night?” Armando asked conversationally, a little shuffling and creaking in the background, as if Armando was reclining onto the couch for a long conversation.

“Yes, I’m just driving home. Thought I’d just say hi, as I missed trashy TV time with you today.”

“Well, I didn’t watch without you. It didn’t feel right,” Armando confessed. “I worked on my car for a couple of hours instead. I figured we could catch up on what you missed tomorrow, if you wanted.”

Pausing at a traffic light, Castiel smiled and let a moment pass before he responded.

“Don’t you usually go out on Sundays? Lunch with someone?”

“Well, yeah,” Armando admitted. “An old friend of mine and my brother’s, Jody, she lives about an hour from here. She likes us to go over and eat with her family on Sunday since we moved back here from California.” 

Castiel didn’t respond straight away, squinting through his windshield into the darkness as he navigated the small, downtown streets. 

“I could skip it though, if you wanted.” Dean added once a moment passed, “It was just a thought.”

“I’d enjoy spending the afternoon with you,” Castiel confirmed, an odd little flutter clenching his stomach, “if that’s what you’d prefer.”

“Let's do that then,” Dean sounded relieved. “My brother can always head to Jody’s without me.”

“Maybe we could—” Castiel’s thought remained unfinished, lost in a sudden loud exclamation as a raccoon darted out into the road, running in front of the car.

Castiel spun the wheel frantically to the right to try and avoid hitting the animal, the front of the gold pimpmobile crashing loudly into an innocent light-pole at the side of the street.

Dropping his phone, Castiel dashed out of the car to check the damage and look around for the raccoon. He hadn’t been going very fast, thanks to the rain, so the car wasn’t in too bad shape – and the raccoon was an uncaring blur of gray on the horizon as it darted into a trash-can lined alleyway.

Sliding back into the car, Castiel could hear Armando’s frantic voice on the other end of the phone as he grabbed it out of the seat. There were an assortment of curses coming out of the speaker as Castiel put the phone down on the dash to back up. He tapped it onto speakerphone.

“Cas! Castiel? What the hell happened? Cas!”

“I’m fine, everything is fine—” Castiel hurriedly interrupted. It wasn’t quite true – he was shaking badly – but at least both he and the raccoon were uninjured.

“What happened?” Armando cut him off, concern practically radiating out of the screen.

“A raccoon ran out in the road. It’s raining really hard and I just didn’t see him. I swerved to avoid hitting him and I hit a light pole instead,” Castiel explained, trying to take some deep breaths.

“Cas! You could have been seriously hurt,” Armando fretted as Castiel knocked the car into reverse, backing carefully away from the metal pole. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m uninjured and the car only has a dent in the bumper, so I’d say I came off quite lightly.” Castiel could hear his voice shaking, so he cut the engine to sit for a minute once he’d straightened up the car.

“Being uninjured isn’t the same as being okay,” Armando said softly, listening to Castiel’s quick breaths. 

“I’m just a little shaken up,” Castiel admitted, feeling embarrassed. _ I’ll be fine in a minute, once my heart stops racing, _ he told himself.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Armando comforted, “Just sit for a minute. Take some deep breaths. Are you sure you weren’t hurt at all? Do I need to call an ambulance or something?”

“No, no,” Castiel insisted, “really, it wasn’t bad at all. Just… stay on the line with me a minute while I calm down?”

“Of course, Cas,” Armando sounded almost offended, “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. Just lean back and close your eyes for a minute. Breathe in… and out.”

Five minutes or so passed with Armando counting Castiel through his breathing, patient and calm. Once Castiel felt well enough to drive on home, he sat up and slipped his seat belt back on, keying the engine back to life.

“Thank you, Armando,” Castiel said. “I’m sorry I worried you. I appreciate you calming me down.”

“No problem, Cas. What are friends for,” Armando responded warmly.

 

***

 

Immediately as Dean woke on Sunday morning, he texted Castiel.

 

> **> >** Hey dude. How’re you doing?
> 
> **> > ** Did you get some good rest?
> 
> **> >** Hope you’re feeling better, I was worried.

 

Dean stumbled out of bed to poke listlessly at the coffeemaker, shoveling enough ground coffee into the filter to provide for both him and Sam. Pulling a couple of clean mugs out of the cabinet, he stared at them as if hoping someone would magically fill them for him.

Dean knew that Castiel’s accident hadn’t been serious. Who hasn't had a little dent in their bumper, or been almost forced off the road by an animal? Even so, he’d been surprised at how much it shook him. At the time, he’d focused on making sure Castiel was okay, calming him down and making sure he got the rest of the way home and to bed in one piece. But once they’d said goodnight to each other and hung up, Dean had let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

He wondered if Castiel knew someone who could take a look at his bumper for him, and replace it if necessary. Castiel didn't seem to Dean like someone who'd know how to do that by himself. He was still musing on it when Sam smacked his shoulder.

“Earth to Dean!”

Sam was dressed in his running gear, a pair of earbuds dangling around his neck.  _ Morning people,  _ Dean thought with disgust.

“What, Sam?” Dean shook his head and registered that the coffee was already done.

“I was just trying to tell you that I grabbed breakfast from that place down the street on the way back from my run,” Sam raised a plastic carrier bag of take-out boxes that he held, “and I was asking if there was enough coffee for me too.”

“Oh,” Dean grinned at the bag, “awesome. Thanks, Sam. And yeah, there’s plenty of coffee.”

Sitting down on the couch, as their apartment wasn’t big enough for a kitchen table, Sam began to unpack the food while Dean finished off the coffees.

“What were you thinking about?” Sam asked as Dean lowered two mugs to the coffee table and flopped onto the couch next to him. He gestured back towards the coffee machine, indicating Dean’s all-consuming reverie he’d interrupted. 

“Oh,” Dean popped open one of the takeout boxes, “My friend Castiel had a little car accident last night.”

Dean’s eyes met with a pile of bacon and pancakes, and he made an appreciative noise.

“Is he okay?” Sam asked with some concern, digging out a little packet of syrup and offering it.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Dean drizzled the syrup over the pancakes and leaned back onto the couch. “A raccoon jumped out into the road on his way home. It was pretty late, I guess he didn’t see it. He was a bit shook up, but not hurt or anything. Just a dented bumper on the car.”

Sam eyed Dean carefully, sucking some syrup off the end of his own fork with a slightly raised brow.

“What?” Dean frowned, shoveling a chunk of pancake into his mouth as if someone was about to steal it.

Sam watched the pancake disappear into Dean’s mouth with the kind of horror he usually reserved for judgemental assholes, Tuesday mornings, or clowns.

“Well, first of all, you don’t have to eat that entire breakfast in one gulp,” he grumbled. “Second – what are you doing about Castiel’s car?”

Dean blinked. “His car?”

“Well, yeah… I know you haven’t met yet and you’re being a wimp about it, Dean, but are you seriously going to let the guy pay hundreds of dollars to someone for a bumper replacement? When you could just get over yourself and go do it for free?”

Dean looked down at his breakfast, quiet. His stomach churned uncomfortably, and he didn’t think it was from the pancake.

Sam sighed. “Wow, you really are. That’s… a shame, I guess. But I won’t say anything else if you’re just not ready to get out there, yet.”

With a relieved nod, Dean picked up his fork.

“If you don’t ask him out soon, though, I’m stealing his phone number and doing it for you.”

Dean’s next chunk of pancake went flying at Sam’s head.

 

*******

 

Castiel slept in pretty late. He was only woken by Miggles pawing desperately at his chest for food and attention. Groaning softly to himself, Castiel wrenched his tired body out of bed and padded barefoot across to feed the poor, neglected animal – a tiny silver gap at the bottom of Miggles half-full bowl denoted that clearly, Castiel had been subjecting the cat to starvation, and he should turn himself in to the authorities. 

Once the beast had been sated, Castiel moved back to the bedroom to check his phone. He had a voicemail from Gabriel and three texts from Armando. The message from his brother was berating him for communicating in the middle of the night, via text, that he’d crashed his car – which Castiel knew was Gabriel’s way of saying that he’d been worried. The text messages from Armando were also inquiring after his wellbeing, and Castiel couldn’t help feel a little warm inside. 

 

> **Castiel:** Hey, I ended up sleeping in late, so sorry I didn’t text you back earlier.
> 
> **Castiel:** I’m fine though, I promise. 
> 
> **Castiel:** I’m sorry for worrying you, I didn’t mean to. 

 

The response was almost immediate.

 

> **Armando:** Well that’s what friends do, they worry about each other.
> 
> **Armando** : Especially when one of them isn’t paying enough attention to the road and wraps his car around a light pole :P
> 
> **Castiel:** It wasn’t THAT bad, assbutt. And I was watching! That raccoon came out of nowhere!
> 
> **Armando:** Sure, sure
> 
> **Armando:** I’m glad you’re okay. I really am.
> 
> **Armando:** Especially as that means I can tease you about it now >:D
> 
> **Castiel:** Who needs enemies, with friends like you, as they say
> 
> **Armando:** I was thinking about your car. 
> 
> **Armando:** Can you send me a picture of the damage?
> 
> **Castiel:** Sure, why? 
> 
> **Armando** : If it’s minor enough that it could wait, I was kinda hoping that you would let me fix it for you
> 
> **Armando:** But as I’m a chickenshit person and we haven’t met, would you be okay with waiting?
> 
> **Castiel:**  Are you asking me to drive around with a dent in my car, because you want to be the one to fix it, but you’re too shy to move out of your comfort zone yet?
> 
> **Armando** : Shit
> 
> **Armando** : I am
> 
> **Armando:** I’m a jerk, I’m sorry.
> 
> **Armando:** You totally shouldn’t wait. I’m ridiculous. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything
> 
> **Castiel:** No
> 
> **Castiel:** Armando
> 
> **Castiel:** Stop. I’ll wait.
> 
> **Castiel:** Don’t say stuff like that about yourself. Yes, it’s weird. But I’m happy I know you anyway.
> 
> **Castiel:** So I’ll wait. 
> 
> **Armando:** Thank you. Maybe the guilt of knowing you’ve still got that dent will encourage me
> 
> **Castiel:** Maybe
> 
> **Castiel:** But just so you know – if it takes longer than six months, I’ll still be your friend but I’m getting my damn bumper fixed
> 
> **Armando:** Fair
> 
> **Castiel:** So, still want to catch up on our shows?
> 
> **Armando:** Call me whenever, dude.

 

Castiel set down his phone and went to take a shower. He found that his stomach was in knots, but he couldn’t work out exactly why. He felt like it would be unfair to pressure Armando into revealing more about himself, or meeting. But the more time went on, the more Castiel wanted to. Of course, the problem was, he then had to face how concerned he was over whether Armando would still like him, in person. It wasn’t like he had many friends. Perhaps Armando wouldn’t find his quirks so endearing when they weren’t over the phone. 

Scrubbing away the confusing feeling under the hot water, Castiel distracted himself with guessing where the plot of Doctor Sexy, MD was going to go next - though he did remember to snap a quick picture of the car bumper before he settled down for their TV appointment.

 


	6. Chapter Six

> **Castiel:** The usual tonight? We’re almost at the end of yitfvbgoiaol;hng’;o
> 
> **Armando:** Hi Miggles!
> 
> **Castiel:** I’m sorry she kept trying to nuzzle the phone last night. I had you on speaker on the arm of the couch, my fault
> 
> **Armando:** Its cool Cas, she made the sex scenes much funnier.
> 
> **Armando:** So later? It's a date?
> 
> **Armando:** I mean not a date
> 
> **Armando:** Just like an appointment. For TV
> 
> **Castiel:** Do you usually have dates through the phone only? Because I have a theory on that “why you’re forever alone” thing
> 
> **Amando:** lmao wow, that was kind of a dick comment. I’m so proud
> 
> **Castiel:** You’re definitely rubbing off on me

 

***

 

> **> > ** Work was awful. My boss is a bitch
> 
> **Castiel:** I’m sorry :( What happened?
> 
> >> Nothing special. I just get fed up doing grunt work sometimes but as I’m a dumbass that dropped out of school, that’s all I can do.
> 
> **Castiel:** You are smart, Armando. I talk to you all the time remember? I wouldn’t talk to a dumbass for hours.
> 
> **> >** heh. thanks.
> 
> **> >** I just wish I could do better for my little brother. I feel like I’m an embarrassment compared to how smart and successful he is. 
> 
> **Castiel:** I’m sorry you feel that way. I’m sure your brother doesn’t, I’m sure he’s proud of everything you’ve done
> 
> **> >** He is
> 
> **Castiel:** and it doesn’t matter what you do. You work hard and you practically raised him, he’s never going to look down on you
> 
> **Castiel:** I don’t know him but I’d practically guarantee he looks up to you
> 
> **> >** he’s like 12 feet tall
> 
> **Castiel** : Okay, well maybe not literally. Assbutt.
> 
> **Castiel:** Stop deflecting when I’m trying to be nice
> 
> **> >** sorry I’m bad at that. Not used to nice.
> 
> **Castiel:** Well you should be. What's the next show we’re watching?
> 
> **> > ** Yo Soy Betty, La Fea
> 
> **Castiel:** Uh… Sure
> 
> **Castiel:** But I hope it has subtitles, not everyone has watched so many bad telenovelas that they’re practically bilingual

 

***

 

> **Castiel:** I just woke up from a nightmare where my phone sang at me in Spanish with your voice, and Miggles tried to eat it and then exploded
> 
> **Armando:** WTF Cas
> 
> **Armando:** Also its 4 a.m.
> 
> **Armando:** Go back to sleep, no one should be awake at this hour
> 
> **Castiel:** Well you’re awake too
> 
> **Armando:** Yeah. My bro stayed at his bf’s house and I hate sleeping in an empty apartment.
> 
> **Castiel:** Get a cat
> 
> **Armando:** I already have to put up with Miggles and she’s not even in my apartment. I’m good.
> 
> **Castiel:** This is dumb but you could call me, if you can’t sleep?
> 
> **Armando:** Was just about to. Gonna go grab some water and then I’ll sing in Spanish for you, see how many more nightmares I can give you.

 

***

 

> **Castiel:** Sorry about this morning. My cat chewed through my phone charger during the night, I was late for work and everything
> 
> **> > ** I was worried, that’s the first time I haven’t had a good morning text from you in weeks
> 
> **Castiel:**  :(
> 
> **> >** I hope Miggles didn’t electrocute herself
> 
> **Castiel:** She’ll live to chew another day, I’m sure
> 
> **> >** Do you get in trouble at work if you’re late?
> 
> **Castiel:** Honestly I’m not sure anyone except the secretary notices I’m there most of the time. No one would notice if Miggles chewed through my cord and I missed my alarm every day
> 
> **> >** I’d notice
> 
> **> > ** You are more important to people than you think.
> 
> **> > ** And Gabriel would cease to function without you chasing him around, by the sounds of it
> 
> **Castiel:** Probably true. And thank you

 

***

>  
> 
> **Castiel** : Are you around?
> 
> **Armando:** driving to work
> 
> **Armado** : Whats up
> 
> **Castiel:** I was getting ready for work the door was open and I guess the delivery for the stupid bar came becase gabriel went to vegas this weeknd and i had to sign for it but i didnt know the door was open
> 
> **Armando:** Dude
> 
> **Armando:** Calm down, you’re not punctuating
> 
> **Armando:** What happened?
> 
> **Castiel:** Miggles got hit by a delivery truck
> 
> **Armando:** I’m pulling over I’m going to call you

 

***

 

> **Castiel:** Back from the veterinarian now.
> 
> **Castiel** : [picture Miggles looking very grumpy in a leg cast]
> 
> **Armando** : Aww poor Miggles
> 
> **Castiel:** I’m so sorry about this morning. Thank you for calling me.
> 
> **Armando:** Cas, it was perfectly okay
> 
> **Armando** : I’m glad you spoke to me
> 
> **Armando:** I just wish I could have done more
> 
> **Armando:** I’m sorry I’m the way I am
> 
> **Castiel:** What do you mean?
> 
> **Castiel:** [picture of Miggles sleeping peacefully]
> 
> **Castiel:** Armando? 
> 
> **Armando** : I gotta go pick up my brother real quick. I’ll talk to you later.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter now contains art by the amazing [Foxymoley!](https://foxymoley.tumblr.com/)

Dean carefully pulled his ‘67 Chevy Impala up, easing her into the exact spot that he knew he could see from the window of the bakery where he was taking Sam for lunch. It wasn’t the best area, and Dean liked to do what he could to keep an eye on his Baby.

Dean had swum through his morning in a haze of guilt. When Castiel had texted him in a panic on his way to work, Dean had immediately called. Miggles had been hit by a reversing truck that was delivering Casa2 pamphlets to Castiel’s apartment. The cat was curious but also never left the confines of the apartment. It was odd that Miggles had decided to dart outside, and her timing could not have been worse. Dean knew how much Castiel loved that grumpy cat, and he could hear the fear and worry in Castiel’s voice as they’d spoken.

He’d wanted to call in to work and turn up at the veterinarian’s office in town to surprise Cas, to support him and try make his day a little better. He hadn’t been brave enough.

Sam slid out of the passenger seat and loped across the pavement before Dean, opening the door and holding it while Dean entered. The second they were inside, Sam turned and folded his arms.

“Okay, we’re here. So what the hell is up with you?”

He didn’t get an answer until they had both paid for coffee and lunch, walking over to the window where they could keep an eye on the car while they ate.

Dean flopped onto a nearby couch, covering his face with his hands before rubbing his palms back through his hair. Sam shook his head and began unwrapping his food, assuming that Dean wasn’t going to answer. When Dean did, in fact, start talking, Sam jerked his head up immediately, trying his best not to look as surprised as he felt.

“You remember how you said that what I wanted in my life was Castiel?”

“Yes…” Sam trailed off hesitantly.

“Well I’ve been thinking about it, and him, and we’ve been getting closer, I guess—” Dean began.

“Oh god, he didn’t meet someone else, did he?” Sam interrupted with a grimace.

“No!” Dean glared. “At least, I hope not. I mean I haven’t— but what if he did though, I mean he’s—”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Sam interrupted, before Dean could ride the paranoia train any further, “that was clearly my bad. What was it you were going to say?”

Dean gave a long exhale, sitting up from the back of the couch and turning to face Sam. “So, Cas and I are really good friends, right? We talk every single day, we don’t really hold back on anything, it’s just… Right.”

Sam nodded, wisely keeping his mouth shut this time and focusing on his avocado, arugula and tomato toast.

“But today something happened that really upset Cas and was a big deal for him, and I…” Dean’s shoulders slumped a little. “I wasn’t there for him. Not like I could have been, anyway.”

“I’m sure he’ll forgive you, Dean,” Sam ventured, uncertain but attempting to reassure Dean nonetheless.

“He’s probably not mad. This is all me, I’m sure. I’m mad at myself for not being brave enough to just go to him when he needed a friend, that’s all.”

Sam eyed him levelly, placing his lunch back onto the table in front of the couch so his focus was solely on Dean. He took a gamble. “So, is this about Alastair, or Dad?”

Dean looked grumpy, but let Sam be right. “Both, a little, I guess.”

“Dean,” Sam regarded him solemnly, “you have to start living your life again at some point. So what, Dad couldn’t cope with having bisexual sons. Alistair was always a dick, even before he worked out you were sometimes into dudes. So don’t base everyone on them, Dean. If you’re worried about work, quit, we’ve been over this.”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Dean admitted. “Remember Bobby, Mom’s friend from when we were kids? He has a salvage yard a couple towns over, now. I was thinking that maybe he’d need somebody, you know? To fix stuff up, turn around some of the cars. But I don’t know. That just feels like I’m running away again.”

Sam nodded, retrieving the last few mouthfuls of his avocado toast. “So don’t. At least try here, first. Maybe don’t go into work wrapped in a pride flag, but step by step. And maybe Cas is your first step.”

Grabbing his steak sandwich from the table, Dean smiled at Sam. “You’re right. I just need to nut up and try.”

Sam nudged him with a shoulder as they stood to head back to work. “There’s at least one good thing about working at Sandover,” he grinned. “Isn’t today grass cutting day at the finance building?”

Dean laughed, winking. “Why yes, Sammy – now you mention it, I think it is.”

 

***

 

_Grass cutting day,_ Castiel thought to himself with a guilty pang of glee. His morning had been rough, taking Miggles to the veterinarian after her accident and then getting the poor, broken-legged kitty settled in at home. Unfortunately, after lunch he’d needed to head into the office - he had too much to do for him to be able to take a whole day off at short notice.

Shucking off his suit jacket and slipping it onto the back of his chair, he was pleased to note that the grass outside his first floor window was looking a little shaggy. He seemed to recall that when Kevin used to do the maintenance for this building, it would only get trimmed once every couple of weeks. Dean seemed quite keen on lawn upkeep by comparison, trimming the grass once every week on the dot.

He relaxed into his chair and turned his computer on, checking his phone hopefully while it booted. He had only one text message; Gabriel, asking him to cover the bar the next night so that he could go out on a date. Again.

Castiel didn't mind covering the bar – other than it cutting into his trashy TV time with Armando – but the amount of dates that Gabriel had been on recently was serving to highlight how long it had been since Castiel had been on any at all.

While plenty of guys seemed to find Castiel attractive, he'd learned as he got older that he wasn't good at the first stages of a relationship. He could be awkward, too blunt and forward for many people’s tastes, and he didn't always understand the humor and pop culture references that flirting always seemed to involve.

Castiel hadn't dated anyone since Balthazar three years before, and also didn't have many friends. He'd given up even trying to have those, until Armando had first called. Luckily, Armando seemed to like the very things about him that had driven other friends away, and shared his goofy passions.

Armando had not, however, texted him back. Castiel frowned. He sensed that Armando was upset that he hadn't been able to comfort Castiel as he'd wanted when Miggles was hurt. It was a sentiment that, while adorable, was also rather silly. Castiel didn't mind, so Armando shouldn't let it upset him. Hopefully his friend would want to talk later, he decided.

He was musing on whether to drop Armando a quick text to reiterate that he wasn't mad, when he heard the rumble and buzz of the ride on lawn mower starting up right outside his window.

Phone put down for a moment, Castiel stood and moved over to the window. He flicked the switch on his little electric tea kettle, using the excuse of a drink to loiter for a few minutes.

Dean was outside, diligently keeping the green spaces between the buildings professional looking. It was, without a doubt, Castiel's new favorite day of the week. He allowed his eyes to linger easily on Dean’s tan, sweating form as he cut neat stripes into the lawn.

Grabbing his tea mug from the desk, Castiel returned to the window to find Dean looking straight up at him. His face tilted up towards the glass and Castiel was caught right in his gaze, looking down. There was no pretending that he hadn’t been looking at Dean now, he realized, so he raised his hand in a little wave.

Dean didn’t wave back, but even over the distance, Castiel could see him grin.

_Damnit,_ Castiel thought hotly. _There’s no way he hasn’t noticed me salivating over him all the time. At best, he thinks I’m weird. At worst, he’s figured out that I’ve been perving on him the whole time and will freak out and say something to someone._

Castiel was so distracted by ridiculous, wild fears of being paraded through the office like a pariah and burned at the stake, that he didn’t notice Dean was removing his shirt until it was already half way off. _Holy crap. Totally worth the stake._

Sweating out in the sun, Dean tucked his old band-shirt into his belt and then turned his head to look back up at Castiel near the window. With another grin – that Castiel would have sworn was particularly shit-eating – he turned the mower and headed back out across the grass.

_There’s no way that was on purpose,_ Castiel thought as he carefully positioned himself back behind the desk. _But I’ll take what I can get,_ he grinned to himself in amusement.

Between his unfulfilled, harmless crush on the maintenance guy and his growing feelings for Armando, Castiel was starting to wonder if Gabriel was right. Maybe he did need someone in his life.

 

***

 

“Hey, Cas.” Dean stretched his feet out onto the coffee table. It had been a long day, not least because he’d spent much of it vaguely worried about Castiel. As soon as he’d got home, he’d given himself a firm talking-to and called Cas.

“You called,” Castiel responded through the speaker on the arm of the couch. He sounded slightly surprised.

“Of course I did. I was thinking about you and Miggles all day,” Dean confessed easily, tugging at the label on his beer bottle.

“I wasn’t sure if you would—” Castiel began slowly.

“I’m sorry I was off before when I texted,” Dean interrupted quickly, “I was being ridiculous. Well, sort of. I am ridiculous, I know that. But I…”

Dean found a small lump in his throat that he didn’t want to explain.

“…I wanted to be there for you. You were upset, and I wasn’t. Not really.”

Castiel was quiet for a minute, but Dean could hear some shuffling on the other end of the phone as he moved around. When he stopped moving, Dean heard the familiar sound of the leather on Castiel’s couch squeaking as Cas curled up on it.

“You were. You are.” Castiel offered quietly once he was settled. “Just because you aren’t physically here doesn’t make any difference to that.”

“But—”

“When I realized Miggles was hurt, you were the only person I wanted to call,” Castiel stated firmly, as if that was the final thing he’d say on the subject.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, and Dean found the edges of his lips curling into a smile at the company, despite the quiet.

“So – how about some _Yo Soy Betty, La Fea_?” Dean questioned with an over-exaggerated accent, picking up his TV remote.

“Si, _Don Armando_ ,” Castiel responded immediately, and Dean could hear his grin through the phone.

Dean pressed at the buttons on the remote until he reached the point where they’d left off, and could hear Castiel doing the same. “Ready?”

“One, two… three.” Castiel counted them in to pressing the play-button at the same time.

The synchronization was never perfect, but it was pretty close. It was worth hearing the tiniest, echoing delay on the other end of the phone, so that they could laugh together and gasp in unison at the overly-dramatic parts. It was a silly, kinda cheesy way to hang out with someone, Dean supposed, but he loved it.

Dean only moved once all night, interrupting Castiel’s rambling guess about what one of the main characters was really up to, so that he could go to the door to collect the pizza he’d ordered. Sam was out having dinner, so he wasn’t around to complain about what Dean ate.

It was Friday night, and Dean found himself glad that he didn’t have to work in the morning, so that he and Castiel could spend more time together.

They had such an ease with one another, giggling and talking seriously with the same effortlessness, that it was easy to forget that Castiel was someone he had never met. He felt, instead, like someone Dean had known for years.

Sam had been pestering him more than usual about Castiel, that week. It frustrated Dean. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he had a crush on Castiel. He also knew that was ridiculous – not only because they hadn’t met, but also because a confident, independent guy like Castiel would never want anything to do with an insecure mess like Dean. That much, Dean was sure of. Unlike Dean, who’d spent most of his life confused, Castiel had known exactly who he was since high school. He definitely wasn’t about to crawl back in the closet with Dean.

Just that morning, Sam had given Dean a little speech through his bedroom door (a safe spot, where Dean couldn’t throw anything at him) telling him to get over himself and ask Castiel out, or at least flirt with him and see where it went.

If Dean let himself think on it, he knew there were definitely times where he’d slip and get a little flirtatious with Castiel. He almost let himself believe that Cas had flirted back, too. He really did want to make a fresh start here in this town, where no one knew him. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be a little braver, he coaxed himself.

 

[ ](https://ibb.co/dPfQ232)

***

 

Casa2 attracted a pretty diverse crowd of people in the evenings. They certainly weren’t all LGBTQ spectrum people, and Castiel was certain they weren’t all allies either in this town, but the fact that they were here at all was a big step.

When Castiel had first arrived to take over from Gabriel, the bar was pretty quiet – work had just finished and business wouldn’t really pick up until seven or eight, when people came back out to play. Gabriel’s bartender Charlie would start at seven, so after helping her over the initial rush, Castiel would be able to leave.

He was refilling the straws behind the bar when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

  

 

 

> **Armando:** New Doctor Sexy Ep at 8!
> 
> **Armando:** Still wanna be my TV date for the night?
> 
> **Armando** : Or are you going to be too late at the bar?

 

Castiel smiled at Armando’s phrasing. The more time they spent hanging out recently, the more convinced Castiel was that Armando was flirting with him. Of course, that didn’t have to mean anything – sometimes close friends who were very comfortable with each other were just like that, he knew. But the thought that Armando might actually want him as more than a friend set little bees buzzing in Castiel’s stomach.

  

 

 

> **Castiel:** Of course!
> 
> **Castiel:** There’s no one else I’d rather watch with ;)
> 
> **Castiel:** I should be done at the bar in time, I’ll text you when I’m on my way.
> 
> **Castiel:** I’m surprised you remembered I had to cover the bar tonight.

 

Thinking about it, Castiel wasn’t sure why he was surprised. He certainly remembered when Armando said something to him about where he was going or what he’d be doing, or whether he’d be on time for their nightly TV appointments. But the thought that Armando did the same for him only added to the pleasant little hive beneath his ribcage.

   

 

 

> **Armando:** Of course I remembered
> 
> **Armando:** How else would I know when to worry about you driving in the dark
> 
> **Armando:** As we both know you’re so good at that  >:D

 

Castiel laughed to himself, shaking his head. Armando was an ass, on occasion, but it was mostly in jest and Castiel found himself very fond of it. He also wasn’t going to pretend to himself that he didn’t like the idea of Armando worrying about him a little. He fired back a quick text.

  

 

 

> **Castiel:** Assbutt. I’ll text you when I’m on the way

 

He slid the phone back into the pocket of the dress pants he still wore from work, and began slicing up lemons for the container behind the bar. It was a mindless enough task, and his mind drifted until the first customers began to arrive.

The evening was a whirlwind of couples to serve, and Castiel felt the buzzing warmth in his chest fading as the time wore on. By the time Charlie arrived, he was a little melancholy. Serving the last two women in the current line at the bar with a forced smile, he leaned back against the wall while Charlie took off her coat.

“Hey Charlie. Hannah coming in later to help you?”

The red-head nodded, “Yeah, they’ll be in soon enough. You don’t have to stay, Castiel, if you’ve got a hot date with your mystery-man.”

Charlie grinned, and Castiel found himself a little flushed.

“Well, I am going to talk to him tonight, if that counts,” he offered honestly, gathering up his jacket.

“Do you want it to count?” Charlie had her arms crossed, looking pointedly at Castiel now. They hadn’t known each other long, but Charlie seemed determined to adopt all the employees as friends. That included Castiel, and so he’d told her about his TV dates with Armando a few weeks before.

Castiel bit his lip. “Yes. I suppose I do want it to count. But I don’t think it does, to him.”

Charlie’s grin was a little softer. “You’re overthinking it. Be bold, make a move. What’s the worst that can really happen, Castiel? Armando is a big boy – he can say no, and if he does, you can still be friends. It’s not a big deal.”

Feeling the strange, elated feeling rising in his chest again, Castiel nodded and waved as he stepped out from behind the bar. _She’s right, after all,_ he thought. _What’s the worst that could happen? Be bold. Make a move._


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a NSFW Chapter! It's not super graphic, but just a heads up.
> 
> This chapter also contains NSFW artwork by the glorious [Foxymoley!](https://foxymoley.tumblr.com/)

Sam looked bemused when Dean practically kicked him out for his date. For a moment, Dean thought he was going to get away with it, that Sam wasn’t going to say anything. But of course he was wrong – a text came in before Sam had probably even reached the bottom of the apartment building stairs.

 

 

> **Samsquatch:** I guess you DID think about it then
> 
> **Dean:** Ugh
> 
> **Dean:** What
> 
> **Dean:** Do we have to do this
> 
> **Samsquatch:** So did you flirt with him yet? Any reciprocation? Are you kicking me out so you can start, or kicking me out because it went well?
> 
> **Dean:** Not telling. Come home before midnight and I’ll kick your ass.

 

Dean took a moment to roll his eyes to the ceiling. His meddling little brother, while his favorite person in the world, hadn’t let up all week. It was ‘you should show Castiel this’ or ‘you should tell Castiel that,’ as if Dean had never successfully hit on a human being before.

It was annoying as hell, and the only thing he and Castiel had planned for the night was to catch the new Doctor Sexy episode, and maybe an Indiana Jones movie, depending how tired they were. No matter what Sam thought.

He was fairly certain Castiel had been flirting back, though.

He wasn’t sure if that excited him or terrified him, but he didn’t have much chance to think about it before his phone beeped.

 

 

> **Castiel:** Episode is about to start! Go ahead without me, I’m still driving back from the bar
> 
> **> > **Stop texting and driving, Cas.
> 
> **Castiel:** Like you can talk
> 
> **> > **I’m not the one with a dent in my bumper, thank you very much.

 

Tossing the phone onto the arm of the couch, Dean flicked on the TV and relaxed, feet up on the coffee table. The episode began, and Dean was totally engrossed, until:

 

 

> **Castiel:** I’m home, just settling in. How’s the episode?
> 
> **> >** Dr Sexy is wearing a cowboy hat. They’re trying to kill me, Cas.
> 
> **Castiel:** That good huh?
> 
> **> > **Dude, I’ve fantasized about that guy since I was probably 15 years old. Now they put him in a COWBOY hat.
> 
> **Castiel:** Oh really? You used to fantasize about him when you were younger? That’s hilarious
> 
> **> > **Pff, thanks asshole
> 
> **Castiel:** What about now?
> 
> **> >** …
> 
> **Castiel** : Do you still?
> 
> **> > **I mean, yeah, sometimes.
> 
> **Castiel:** What about right now?

 

Dean stared at the screen of his phone for a moment, not entirely sure if he was reading the situation correctly or just wishing that Castiel was hinting about him sharing his Dr Sexy fantasties. Or maybe something more than that.

 

 

> **> > **k
> 
> **> >** I’m gonna come straight out and ask if you’re inferring what I think you are
> 
> **> >** because I don’t want to be wrong and make everything super awkward

 

There was a pause for a couple of minutes before the next text came in, and Dean was very sure that’d he’d read the situation wrong. Just because he had feelings for this guy and they’d started flirting a little didn’t mean Cas necessarily—

 

 

> **Castiel:** I’m settled on the couch now, so tell me what you’re doing.
> 
> **> >** Well, now I’m talking to you so I’m not really thinking about Dr Sexy anymore lol
> 
> **Castiel:** Good, because that’s not who I’m thinking about either.

 

Suddenly, the apartment seemed a lot warmer, and Dean was extremely glad that he’d hustled Sam out early.

 

***

 

The bed creaked gently as Dean lowered himself onto it. He didn’t know exactly where Castiel wanted to go with this, or even if it would be anything at all, but he was definitely going to be comfortable for it - because no matter what Castiel was up to, after those last few comments, there was certainly going to be some action on his side.

Plus, he and Sam had the unspoken deal that there were to be no exposed penises in the living room. Not only that, but the bedroom was where Dean’s lube was. Who didn’t like a little extra slide?

Retrieving the lube bottle from the drawer of his nightstand, Dean picked his phone back up and smiled to himself. He’d done this a few times before, sure, but mostly with women, and never with anyone who didn’t even know what he looked like.

_Need to get up the balls to remedy that_ , Dean thought with embarrassment.

Clearly not the time for that conversation though; nothing on earth could make him derail this moment.

 

 

> **> >** Well, I guess I’ll be watching the rerun of Doctor Sexy, because somehow you’ve persuaded me to disappear off to bed.
> 
> **Castiel:** I hope you’re not waiting for an apology because that sounds perfect to me
> 
> **> > **Nope, nope, totally on board
> 
> **Castiel:** Good to know. Are you still dressed from work?

 

Dean smiled slightly to himself, knowing without even explicitly asking that Castiel was going to take control of every bit of this, and that he would love every moment.

 

 

> **> > **Nope, I’m already in pj pants, boxers and a t-shirt.
> 
> **Castiel:** Well, you do like to make things easy for me
> 
> **Castiel:** No touching yet
> 
> **Castiel:** First I want you to take your shirt off.
> 
>  

Dean found himself complying, which was a little amusing as Castiel couldn’t see what he was doing; but he could imagine Castiel’s gravely voice ordering him to strip down and it was more than pleasant.

 

 

> **> > **Shirt is off. If you were here, what would you do first?
> 
> **Castiel:** I’d start with kissing you, of course. Pressed up against you, feeling my chest against yours, vibrating against you every time I spoke
> 
> **Castiel:** Then I’d work my way down to your collarbone, just kissing and nipping at it… people don’t pay enough attention to collarbones you know
> 
> **Castiel:** Or nipples, for that matter
> 
> **Castiel:** I’d love to find out how sensitive yours are… first with my fingers, then with my tongue and teeth
> 
> **> >** Jesus Cas
> 
> **Castiel:** You’d like that?
> 
> **> > **So much. I’d be writhing around like you wouldn’t believe

 

And he was. Raising his hand to trail across his own chest, he could easily imagine Castiel’s sexy, commanding voice throbbing against his ribcage as his fingers came up to rub at his nipples.

 

 

> **Castiel:** So you’d probably be eager for me to kiss my way down your stomach
> 
> **Castiel:** Stopping to bite at your hip bones, mark you up a little
> 
> **> >** Fuck yes, please
> 
> **Castiel:** What was that…..?
> 
> **> > **Please
> 
> **> >** Please Cas
> 
> **Castiel:** I can imagine your voice begging, and it’s sexy as hell… go ahead and slip your pants down
> 
> **Castiel:** Just the pants though
> 
> **Castiel:** Because I want to watch your cock dance under the fabric when I mouth at it
> 
> **> >** Fuck you’re good at this
> 
> **Castiel:** I’d bite at your thighs first though
> 
> **Castiel:** and trail my fingers up them so, so slowly
> 
> **Castiel:** Just to see if I could make you moan before I touched you

 

Dean swallowed harshly, his plaid pajama pants pushed down around his thighs exactly as Castiel had requested, trailing his hand up the inside of his thigh just as was written. It felt good, and knowing that was what Casitel would have done made it a hundred times better.

 

 

> **> > **Hell yes I’m moaning right now
> 
> **Castiel:** God I wish I could hear you, I bet you sound fantastic
> 
> **Castiel:** moaning, begging for me to touch you
> 
> **> >** You could, if you wanted
> 
> **> >** Hear me, I mean

 

There was only a moment's hesitation before Dean’s phone rang in his hand. He answered immediately, without a single doubt.

“Hello, Cas,” he began, trying to keep his voice steady as his cock twitched in anticipation.

“Hello,” Castiel responded immediately, and Dean was pleased to note that he sounded a little breathless.

Without missing a beat, Dean heard the soft tap of Castiel putting him on speakerphone, and the gentle rustle of fabric as he spoke.

“Do you want to touch yourself?” The question growled low from Castiel’s lips and Dean’s body’s reaction to the sound was instantaneous.

“God yes. Please,” Dean responded, remembering that Castiel had seemed to like the begging, “Please Cas… let me touch myself, for you. Please.”

A low rumble came from Castiel that might have been a breathless curse.

“Yes. You can.”

Slipping his hand down past his waistband, Dean wasted no time pushing his boxers down a comfortable few inches.

“What would you like me to do, Cas?” he asked, resting the phone next to him on the bed and putting himself on  speaker, too, so that he had both hands free.

“Slowly at first,” Castiel breathed. “Just around the head; touch no more than the tip… I’m only letting you relieve the first inch or so, just enough to feel some friction…”

Dean groaned, loosely hooking his forefinger around the head of his cock and sliding it slowly back off, grasping for his lube with the other hand. He dispensed just enough to ease the glide of his finger as it teased over his already dripping slit.

He described every motion to Castiel, taking his time.

Castiel gasped slightly, the moan that came from him every bit as low, throaty and full of gravel as Dean had hoped it would be.

“Are you touching yourself too, Cas?” Dean rasped out, sliding his thumb back and forth across the sensitive spot just at the underside of his head.

“Yes, oh yes—” Castiel groaned out, the sound of skin rubbing over skin increasing in volume for a moment, as if the phone had moved closer. “Can you hear me?”

“Fuck, yes… I bet your cock is magnificent, Cas,” Dean panted out shamelessly, though he had no way of knowing that.

For a second, Castiel didn’t speak. There were still sounds, still breaths, but no words, until:

“Well, you tell me. Is it?”

Dean hadn’t opened a text message that fast in his life.

The first thing Dean could tell about Castiel from the photograph was that he was a white guy. His cock was long, smooth and very straight, leaking drips of glossy precome all over his grasping hand. The way Castiel’s fingers curled made his thickness obvious, his thumb not close to touching the first finger of his fist.

Dean’s breathing hitched audibly before he let himself respond, “Cas, oh man. That is beautiful. You really do have a magnificent cock… Damn, Cas.”

“Then imagine me rubbing it up against yours,” Castiel’s husky voice had a note of deep pleasure to it that thrilled through Dean, and he took the moment to be brave.

“Would you like to see what you’re rubbing up against, Cas? Do you want to see my cock too?”

For a moment, Castiel’s voice changed, taking on a softer and lighter tone. “I won’t rush you into anything you don’t want. I like to be in charge, like this, but you can always say no to me.”

His caution was gentle and sweet. It gave Dean butterflies in whole different way than his twitching dick did as it bobbed hopefully above his abdomen. But for now, the heat building low in his stomach was what needed to be sated. The rest could wait.

“Tell me exactly what you want, Cas… I’ll give you what you want,” Dean found himself rumbling, Castiel’s usually matter-of-fact nature and deep voice awakening in him a need to submit to whatever this man wanted.

Castiel didn’t answer for a brief moment, a small sigh tumbling out of him to the background sounds of his beating hand, speeding up now.

“Shit, yes… I want to see you. Let me see you touching yourself for me.”

Dean flipped over to his camera, pointing the phone down at his thick, slightly curved cock. He ran his forefinger down it slowly once, then back up, before wrapping the rest of his fingers around and raising his hips to fuck into his hand. He thrust again, a moan coming unbidden from him. It was all caught on the short video, even his groaning in the background and the raise of his thighs as he braced them.

Nervously, he attached the video to a text and hit send, returning his attention to the head of his cock as he waited.

He heard Castiel open the video, even heard his own moan come back to him through the speaker.

“Oh fuck…” the exclamation gasped out of Castiel, almost hopeless. “That was amazing.”

Dean heard Castiel watch it again, his own hand slipping faster across his skin now, his hips rising once more. Castiel really never cussed or exclaimed much at all. Hearing the sounds pouring from his lips now, all pretense at direction between them forgotten then as they just listened to each other, was incredibly hot.

“Oh Jesus, Cas… I can’t believe I’m listening to you. So hot. You sound… fuck you sound awesome.”

“So do you, so sexy… I’m close already, between listening to you beg and watching you… fuck.”

“Me, too.” Dean strained slightly, his fingers tightening around the base of his cock as he tried to wait. “Please, can I come? Please, please, let me come for you, Castiel.”

Dean was aware that his own voice was rising slightly in desperation, but he was shameless as he begged. He wanted to come, but even more than that, he wanted to please Castiel.

“Oh...” he heard Castiel tumble over the edge, gasping, as Dean’s begging hit his ears. “Yes. Come for me, now.”

So Dean did.

 

[ ](https://ibb.co/Rj8WHq2)


	9. Chapter Nine

Castiel woke up with something that felt suspiciously like a hangover, except it was constructed entirely of guilt and worry, rather than alcohol. He hadn’t necessarily intended for things to go as far as they did the previous night with Armando. He’d left the bar on a little high of confidence, and he may have gotten a little carried away, he worried. Gabriel was always telling him that he was far too blunt and forward, and that it was off putting.

Not that it hadn’t been amazing, or that Armando hadn’t seemed just as into it as he was. But he’d promised himself he wasn’t going to rush this, wasn’t going to risk spoiling anything. He’d been pretty forward in his texts; what if Armando regretted it? What if it ruined things between them? Or – worst of all, Castiel decided – what if it didn’t mean anything to him at all?

He still didn’t even know Armando’s real name. He didn’t know what he looked like. Well… most of him, anyway. Castiel’s cheeks heated just a fraction in excitement and interest, and the second the thought hit him, he rolled over to grab his phone. He still had his face smooshed into his pillow in reluctance to face the world, but he was definitely going to take another peek at those texts from Armando. Particularly the video.

When he reached for his phone though, he saw that the screen was already lit up with a text message.

 

 

> **Armando:** I’m headed in to work early this morning, but I didn’t want to leave you without a good morning text
> 
> **Armando:** It’s kind of a tradition now
> 
> **Armando:** So good morning, Castiel :)

 

Castiel thumbed back up through his and Armando’s messages, going back days. He found himself taking note of the amount of times they checked in on each other, enthusiastically texted because something reminded them of the other, or dropped a quick line or emoji just because. It was a lot, and Castiel had to be honest and admit that even if he was only just now realizing how close they’d become, it’d been that way for a while.

Their texts looked, for all intents and purposes, like texts between a couple. It had been weeks since Gabriel had pointed out that Castiel was falling for someone who he’d never met. It had been true, even then, but Castiel now had to admit that what he felt for Armando was more than just some crush or passing thing. Was it even possible to be in love with someone you’d never seen?

Last night had been fantastic. There was no other way to look at it. He didn’t want a friendship, he wanted _that_ , with Armando right beside him, over him, under him. He wanted the dirty glide late at night and the sleepy kisses as the sun rose. He wanted all of it.

Castiel bit down on his bottom lip slightly, trying to organize his thoughts. He wanted to meet Armando, to pursue something with him if there was any chance his feelings were returned and could continue beyond phone calls and texts. Maybe Armando wasn’t ready for that yet, but before he found out, there were a few other things in Castiel’s life that he wanted to sort out.

Starting with Dean, the distractingly attractive maintenance guy. Castiel didn’t feel right flirting with Dean (if that was even what was happening) if he was going to go for more with Armando; Dean was attractive, hellishly so, but Castiel didn’t really know him. He’d do his best to stay professional, but avoid him whenever he could.

He jumped into the shower and threw his work clothes on quickly, stopping only to feed Miggles before he jumped into his battered pimp-mobile.

 _Maybe if Armando wants to meet me, he can finally take a look at the damage,_ he pondered briefly. _Alright Castiel, don’t get ahead of yourself. You hardly qualify for friend and family mechanic perks just yet. Find out what he looks like first, then worry about the bumper._

In the elevator to his office, Castiel quickly pulled out his phone to respond to Armando and noticed a bunch more messages that must have arrived while he was driving.

 

 

> **Armando:** I’ve been thinking about last night ever since I woke up, Cas
> 
> **Armando:** I don’t know what that was to you, but I need to let you know that I’ve been trying to work up the courage for a few weeks to suggest that maybe we could meet and see if we get along the same in person
> 
> **Armando:** I don’t want to mislead you. You’re one of my closest friends, but I’d really like more from you
> 
> **Armando:** I guess this is how you awkwardly ask out someone you’ve never met
> 
> **Armando:** I work in town and I’d really like to meet you for lunch if you’re free – maybe 12:30, you pick the place?
> 
> **Armando:** If that’s something you want too, let me know. If not then please just forget I said anything and we’ll just be friends like we have been

 

Castiel was grinning from ear to ear by the time the elevator door opened. He was caught up in his thoughts and almost crashed into Dean, who was waiting for a ride down to the lobby. He was all dressed up in his overalls and respirator from the other day, so Castiel assumed he was on his way to finish the painting.

 _Okay Castiel,_ he thought, _you’ve got a chance at something really good with Armando. Distance yourself from the hot guy. Be professional._

With a brief, polite smile of apology for almost running into him, Castiel stepped past Dean and hustled on up the corridor. It sounded like Dean started to say something, but it was probably best if they didn’t chat. In fact, Castiel had already decided, it was probably for the best if he could forget about Dean entirely.

When he got to his office, he dropped his briefcase and immediately registered that it was sweltering hot, again. Obviously, Dean had been right, and the thermostat was completely on the blink. Sighing, he dropped into his swivel chair and picked up the phone.

“Morning, Castiel,” Naomi picked up, sounding distracted.

“Good morning, Naomi. The thermostat in my office seems to be malfunctioning once more.”

“I’ll send Dean back up to see if he can fix it again, and we’ll order a new one,” Naomi offered, sounding like it pained her to do so.

“Uh, actually Naomi? Would you mind sending one of the other guys up here?”

There was a brief pause, but she acquiesced. “Sure. It’s not like Kevin is doing much in the other building anyway.”

She hung up, as usual, before Castiel could explain or even respond.

Glad that he could avoid seeing Dean for just a little bit while he worked things out with Armando, Castiel picked up his phone. He only had a couple of minutes before his series of meetings began – he had to go through some new fiscal policies with several departments, and he knew he’d be in HR all morning before he had to go do it all over again with IT that afternoon. So, he took the time to quickly text Armando back before it got too late.

 **Castiel:** Armando, I’m really happy that you’re comfortable enough to meet me. I’d love that. 12:30 at the café on the corner of West and 3rd street? I’ll see you there :)

He didn’t say anything else for now – he had a lot of things he’d like to say to Armando, but most of them should be said to his face. With a small thrill in his chest, Castiel realized that if things went how he hoped, he might be able to do more than speak to the guy. If Armando really felt the way Castiel did, it didn’t matter much what he looked like; Castiel was going to struggle not to pull him in and kiss him silly when they met.

Dropping his phone down into his briefcase under the desk, Castiel grabbed his notes for his meeting and rushed back out of the office door. He smiled the entire way down the corridor.

 

***

 

Pulling off one of his gloves, Dean quickly tucked it under his arm so he could reach for his phone as it buzzed in his back pocket. He’d been waiting for Castiel to text him back all morning, growing increasingly nervous as time wore on – even though it was still early, and most people’s day was just starting.

Dean beamed into his respirator as he read the text from Castiel, saying that he did want to meet Dean for lunch and agreeing on a time. _Thank God for that,_ he thought briefly. He wasn’t sure he’d have coped too well with a rejection, given how his heart had almost burst out of his throat at the thought of being able to sit next to the man for lunch.

 

 

> **> >** I know exactly which café you mean, it’s only a couple of minutes from me – I work at Sandover, down on Styne Park.

 

Exhaling somewhat nervously, Dean pulled open the door to his work truck and slid into the driver’s seat. He had to head back to the maintenance office to fetch some paperwork and return the painting gear. But first, he thought, he wanted to quickly do something.

 

Pulling off the respirator he’d been wearing to spray the paint, Dean tilted the truck’s rearview mirror to quickly check he didn’t have flecks of Standard Beige in his hair. He wasn’t sure why he was so anxious; it was just a selfie.

Attempting to tilt the phone at a vaguely flattering angle, Dean snapped a quick shot of his nervously smiling face. It was a dorky ‘thumbs up’ picture, but he knew Castiel would expect nothing less.

 

 

> **> >** I guess you should know who you’re looking for when you get there :)
> 
> **[ ](https://postimg.cc/image/777k4g3kr/) **
> 
> **> >** I’ll see you at lunch! Gotta admit, I’m pretty excited to meet you finally, Cas. Hope the photo isn’t too off-putting ;)

 

Dean took his time driving across Styne Park to the maintenance office, savoring the nervous butterflies in his stomach. It was a little ridiculous, he decided, to have a fluttering chest at the idea of meeting someone who he’d spoken to every single day recently. Someone who he knew intimately. Someone who he’d already been intimate with, even. But nonetheless, this was different. This wasn’t just a date, this was the first time Castiel would see what he looked like and meet him in person. What if their chemistry didn’t carry over? What if it _did_?

Seeing that he’d had no response from Castiel yet, Dean got out of the truck and headed into the maintenance department to drop off his painting gear and get his next jobs lined up. Moving toward the office that Naomi and Zachariah shared near the entrance, he stepped inside and leaned against the doorframe, patiently waiting his turn.

“…No, Kevin, that’s not what Castiel said. He said it was too hot, not that you should make it hotter!”

Dean’s full attention snapped over to Naomi as she spoke on the phone, and his jaw dropped a little.

_Surely that name was far too unusual for there to be more than one in this town…?_

Dean was on the edge of his seat the entire time Naomi was reprimanding Kevin for messing up something with the heat in one of the buildings.

Eventually, she hung up and turned to him with one of her humorless smiles.

“Done with the painting, Dean?”

“Yes, I am – uh, who were you just talking to?” Dean gestured towards the phone.

“Kevin…?” Naomi responded slowly, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, right,” Dean laughed slightly, “I meant, Castiel? There’s a Castiel that works here?”

Naomi looked at Dean in utter confusion, squinting slightly.

“Yes, Dean, there is, and it seems like you’ve managed to piss him off somehow,” Naomi pursed her lips.

“What? Castiel? What do you mean?” Now Dean was the one confused.

“Castiel called with an air conditioning problem, and when I said I’d send you up to the finance department to work on it, he declined. He wanted me to send someone else instead,” Naomi sighed, looking irritated, “which is most irregular. I’ll have to switch you out to another building and try Kevin up there again. We can’t have you bothering the other staff, Dean, whatever it is you did. I know you’re new, but—”

“Castiel,” Dean repeated again. “In the finance department.”

Cogs were slowly turning in Dean’s brain, but he wasn’t quite there yet.

“Yes, Dean!” Naomi snapped. “Castiel Novak, the financial auditor, in building two.”

_The financial auditor in… Clarence._

“Clarence?”

“Yes, the secretary up there, Meg, she calls him that.” Naomi was exasperated. “What did you do to make him not want you around him anymore, Dean?”

Dean blinked slowly, dazed.

_Castiel was Clarence._

_Clarence… was Castiel._

How had he not seen that? Their voices… well, everyone sounds different on the phone, he guessed, but their voices were similar; deep and gravelly. The only other identifying part of Castiel he’d seen was one he’d definitely _not_ seen on Clarence.

Except he had, apparently.

And he’d arranged a date with him at lunch, and sent him a photograph so that Castiel/Clarence knew who he was.

And now that Castiel knew who he was… he didn’t want him in the building.

Dean’s fluttery stomach changed entirely, plummeting down to hit his feet.

He walked out of the office to go and sit in his truck, leaving Naomi yelling after him.

 

***

 

Castiel felt like his meeting in the HR department was three days long. He couldn’t wait to get out and head to lunch. He explained all of the new policy changes to the attendees and answered all of their questions as quickly as he was able, before dashing back to his office.

“Clarence,” Meg greeted him with another stack of paper as he hurried into the department. “Kevin is in your office working on the air conditioning. Unfortunately I think he made it hotter rather than cooler.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow, continuing to walk past Meg’s desk as she updated him.

“I don’t know why they sent Kevin rather than Dean. He’s nowhere near as cute.” She sighed.

Castiel felt momentarily guilty, depriving Meg of her eye candy. He hoped Naomi wouldn’t give Dean trouble about it – he hadn’t really thought of that, when he’d requested someone else.

Perhaps he should call Naomi and try to explain in some way… without actually being able to explain. His brow was creased as he reached his office door, pondering the problem, with Meg scurrying behind him.

The heat inside the small room was uncomfortable, to say the least.

“Kevin,” Castiel spluttered out, “it’s July. I really need some air conditioning, rather than extra warmth?”

Kevin turned, dropping his eyes down slightly in embarrassment. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying to fix it. Naomi already yelled at me.” He sighed.

“Well,” Castiel caught himself, responding more kindly. “We all make mistakes, and Naomi shouldn’t have yelled. Just try get it fixed while I’m out at lunch, okay?”

“You’re going out for lunch?” Meg questioned curiously from the hallway, seemingly refusing to step into the heat. “You never go anywhere for lunch.”

“Yes, I am, actually,” he confessed, grabbing his briefcase and tan trench coat in case the summer storm that had been threatening all morning hit while he was out.

Meg regarded him with a perfectly arched brow, leaning on the wall of the hallway outside of Castiel’s office so he couldn’t immediately pass.

“Are you meeting someone?” she questioned lightly, but there was a smile at the edge of her lips.

“I, uh,” Castiel felt a brief flush at his neck and prayed the nosy secretary wouldn’t notice, “I am, actually.”

Meg’s grin turned wolfish as she slowly peeled her shoulder up from the wall, allowing Castiel to pass but walking next to him. She was quiet for a minute, but she looked over at Castiel with a warm smile.

“Well, that’s great, Clarence. Whatever makes you happy.”

Saying nothing else, Meg stepped back behind her desk and turned to her computer, leaving Castiel to smile fondly at the back of her head. Meg was a handful, but if she had known he was gay and not said anything for the past three years, he couldn’t fault her on her integrity.

Waiting for the elevator to take him down to where his car was parked, Castiel dug his cell phone out of his briefcase to check the time, and noticed that he had several new messages from Armando.

He was surprisingly nervous opening them – what if Armando had changed his mind? What if he didn’t want to meet up, or had decided that anything more than their telephone-chats wouldn’t work between them?

Putting his worries aside until he knew for sure, Castiel eased into the front seat of his dented pimp-mobile. He slid open the message with his thumb, only to be confronted with a cute selfie of Dean the maintenance guy.

For a moment, Castiel did a double take.

Yes, the text was from Armando.

But yes, that was definitely Dean.

Dean was Armando. Armando was Dean.

The man he’d been falling in love with, the guy who knew him and who he could talk about anything with, who shared his goofy passions and let him into his life despite all his fears, was also the incredibly beautiful, perfect man he’d been drooling over ever since he’d started here.

Dean.

Castiel found himself grinning again, snapping shut his seat belt hastily as he pulled out of the parking lot to quickly drive the couple of minutes it would take for him to reach the café.

On the way there, he became more nervous. Did Dean know who he was? Had he not realized, or did he know all along? Castiel had so many questions. What if Dean didn’t want anything to do with him, because they worked for the same company? Alright, not in the same department, but being outed at work was one of Dean’s biggest fears. Would it be too much for him?

Castiel’s fingers were white around the steering wheel as he parked. He turned the rearview mirror towards himself, straightening his tie – which always seemed to come loose – and raking his fingers awkwardly through his messy hair. He tried to get it to lay a little flatter, but it just wasn’t made that way. After a moment, he gave up and nervously got out of the car.

It didn’t look like Dean was here yet, so Cas took a seat where he could watch the door and wait.


	10. Chapter Ten

Dean sat in the work truck for a long time, staring at the edge of the steering wheel. Eventually, fumbling slightly, he called his brother.

“Hey, Dean. I’m just getting back from lunch,” Sam answered, the sound of swift movement in the background. “I’ve got a few minutes before my meeting though, what’s up?”

“I was supposed to go to lunch with Castiel, today,” Dean offered quietly, tilting his head back against the headrest of his seat and closing his eyes.

“What do you mean, you were supposed to?” The shuffling sounds of movement in Sam’s vicinity stopped, and it seemed he’d paused for a moment to give Dean his full attention.

“Well, I asked him if he wanted to get lunch. A date, actually, I made it pretty clear. Or at least I hope I did,” Dean found himself giving a sad little chuckle, not really wanting Sam to know how upset he was suddenly feeling.

Sam though, wasn’t so easy to fool when it came to Dean. “Oh god, what happened? Tell me everything. I’ve got time, my meeting can wait a couple minutes.”

“Well, turns out that Castiel is the hot auditor from the finance department…”

“What? That’s crazy!” Sam exclaimed, laughing. “Wait, isn’t that a good thing?”

“I mean, when I first heard the name, I thought it was awesome but then…” Dean paused for a second to exhale. “Well, when I ran into him this morning, Clarence I mean, or Castiel or whatever his real name is – the finance guy, I mean – he was polite but it kinda seemed like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”

Sam let out a soft ‘oh,’ but Dean carried on speaking right over him.

“So when he said he was free for lunch I sent him a photograph. Like, a dumb selfie from my phone so he knew what he was getting into, you know?”

“Right…” Sam responded cautiously, not wanting to stop Dean.

“So, uh, he definitely knows it’s me. But then I went to the maintenance office and Naomi said—” Dean was ashamed that his voice cracked a little, but Sam didn’t seem to be in the mood to make fun, “that Castiel had called her and requested that I not be sent to work for him again. She’s assigning me to another building because he doesn’t want to be around me—”

“Dean,” Sam finally interrupted, “it might not be that he doesn’t want to see you now that he knows who you are. It might not be anything to do with that.”

“Well, what other explanation is there?”

Sam was silent for a moment, taking in Dean’s slightly elevated breathing, “I don’t know, Dean. I’m sorry.”

Dean didn’t respond to Sam immediately, taking out his frustration on the steering wheel of the truck instead, thumping it with the heel of his hand.

“So stupid,” he eventually muttered. “I was so close to quitting this awful job anyway, and giving Bobby’s a try. Maybe it really would be a good idea. I don’t want to have to see him walking around, Sam,” Dean confessed quietly. “That would… well, that would suck,” he finished lamely.

“Dean, I think you need to just calm down a little. Maybe just text Cas and ask him what’s going on. It might not be what you think.”

“I – yeah, I guess.”

“Dean. Come on. It doesn’t have to be right now,” Sam soothed, “but promise me you’ll at least try texting him tonight and find out the truth.”

Dean sighed sadly. “I promise.”

 

***

 

Sam Winchester felt all eyes in the room swivel to him when he slipped into his meeting. He was the last one there, and in theory, one of the most important.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, taking a seat around the edge of the large conference table. “I got caught up. Didn’t mean to keep you all waiting to hear about this exciting new fiscal policy.”

He got a few little chuckles and smiles from around the table, before a messy-haired guy in a dark suit and blue tie stood and cleared his throat.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted everybody. “Thank you for taking the time out of your schedules to go through these new policies with me.”

His voice was low and gravelly, but as Sam studied him, he frowned slightly.  _ This dude looks like he got hit by a bus, _ Sam considered. His tie was loose, his eyes were slightly red and he looked very tired. Must have been a rough day in the finance department.

Alarm bells began ringing in Sam’s head.

_ Wait… _

“My name is Castiel. I’m usually the company auditor in the finance department, but today—”

_ Motherfucker! _

Sam was vaguely aware of himself glaring at Castiel for the next forty-five minutes, but beyond that, not much of the meeting registered.

He needed to get back to his office and do some actual work, but there was definitely something more important to sort out first, professionalism be damned. Sam waited for everyone to file out, remaining in his seat while Castiel slowly gathered up his files.

Once the room was empty, Sam rose to his feet and approached Castiel. He cleared his throat and extended a hand, not even sure how to go about this.

“Castiel. I’m Sam Winchester, the new director of the IT department.”

Castiel nodded slowly, returning his handshake firmly, “Pleasure, Sam. Castiel Novak, Finance. I was at your introductory meeting a couple of months ago, but honestly you met so many people that day I’m certain you don’t remember me.”

Castiel’s chuckle was very low, and his weary smile disarmed Sam somewhat.

“You looked a little tired up there,” Sam began cautiously, wondering if he could edge around to the subject he wanted affably.

“Yes, it’s been a long day.” Castiel looked at him almost cautiously. “I, uh, was up late at my second job.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Sam’s gaze didn’t falter as he folded his arms in front of his chest.

“I, uh, help out sometimes at a bar my brother owns, down on Main—”

_ Novak. Bar. _

“You’re Gabriel’s brother,” Sam blurted out suddenly, a full circle completing in his head at lightning speed.

Castiel blinked. “I do have a brother called Gabriel, yes…”

Sam couldn’t help but grin and found his hand shooting out to shake Castiel’s yet again, to his confusion.

“Castiel Novak. Well. There’s a lot of coincidences around here today – I apologize for springing this on you at work, but I’m dating your brother.”

“You’re the bendy IT guy with the long legs!” Castiel burst out in surprise, before suddenly reddening and shushing himself. “I mean—”

Sam laughed loudly, turning quickly to close the meeting room door to give them some privacy.

“Look, Castiel, everything that Gabriel has ever said about his brother has made me think you’re a pretty okay guy,” Sam began, “so I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt here and try work out what’s happening.”

Castiel’s smile was somewhat relieved, though he raised a curious eyebrow.

“Work out what, Sam? I’m not going to say anything to anyone here at work if you—”

“Not that.” Sam smiled again, turning to lean against the edge of the table. “Though, I certainly appreciate that, too. But I’m also Dean’s brother.”

Castiel’s eyes widened slightly. “Dean’s brother? Dean… here? Maintenance Dean?”

“Yeah,” Sam answered more quietly, “that Dean. Also, uh, ‘Armando’ Dean.” Sam made little air quotes with his fingers, smirking slightly.

Castiel averted his eyes, reaching up a hand to rub at his face. He didn’t speak for a moment, and Sam was puzzled, watching Castiel look all around the room in discomfort. Once he’d gathered his thoughts, he turned back to Sam.

“Right. I apologize if this puts you in an awkward position, but do you know if Dean is… well if he’s okay?” 

Sam quirked an eyebrow, and was about to respond that no, Dean was definitely not okay, when Castiel plowed onward.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me anything. If it’s just that he didn’t want to see me, I mean. I was just a little worried, and—”

“Woah, woah,” Sam held up his hands. “What’s happening here? Why do you think Dean didn’t want to see you?”

“I was supposed to meet Dean at lunch today, but he never turned up, or even texted to explain. I was going to try to call him after the meeting, actually,” Castiel’s voice was very quiet and he didn’t look at Sam, instead focused on the end of his tie as he fiddled with it. “If he changed his mind, I’ll leave him alone, but I at least need to know that he’s okay and nothing terrible has happened.”

Sam puffed out a long breath, blinking a few times.

“Well. This is a mess,” he began. “Dean is fine, Castiel. Well, I mean, physically he’s fine. He didn’t get in an accident or anything,” Sam reassured. “But he called me before the meeting kind of upset because he thought that you didn’t want to see him when you found out who he was. He said something about Naomi—”

Sam watched the pieces of the puzzle fit together across Castiel’s face with a slow, dawning horror.

“No! No, Sam, not at all – when I told Naomi that I’d rather Dean not come up to the office today, it was because I felt weird about having a crush on the maintenance guy when I wanted to try pursue an actual relationship with Armando,” Cas explained, his right hand raising stressfully to tangle in his hair, “so I planned to distance myself from Dean and focus on Armando. I didn’t know then, that they were the same person.”

Sam’s next breath came out as a tiny laugh.

“So,” he clarified, “you do like my brother?”

“Sam.” Castiel’s face was brightening, and Sam suddenly realized his worn demeanor was likely more from his upset at being stood up by Dean than the night before at the bar. “Yes, I do. I like your brother very much, both knowing what he looked like and being in the dark.”

Even though they’d only just met, it seemed only natural for Sam to laugh and pull Castiel into a hug, slapping his back.

“We can fix this, Cas – can I call you Cas?” Sam grinned. “This is all just huge misunderstanding. Dean thinks you didn’t want anything to do with him once you connected Armando with Dean, and you thought he led you along then ditched you. It’s a mess, but we can fix it.”

Castiel’s smile was much wider then, grinning into Sam’s shoulder as he returned the hug.

 

***

 

Castiel hadn’t been late back to his office without a good reason in eight years. Therefore he didn’t feel particularly guilty as he called Meg, on the way over to the maintenance building after his meeting with Sam, asking her to field his calls. 

“Your lunch date must have gone well then, Clarence,” she insinuated clearly, “if you’re too busy for work half of the afternoon.”

“Uh, no, I just—” Castiel stammered slightly, wondering if it would really hurt to just tell Meg the truth.

“Castiel,” She interrupted firmly, her use of his real name underlining her firmness, “if you’re going to be out for a little while, that’s fine. Just text me if it turns into something else and I’ll tell everyone you had to go home sick.”

“Thank you, Meg.” He smiled gratefully as he pulled up outside the maintenance office. 

“Not a big deal,” she responded. “Go get ‘em, tiger.” 

She hung up before Castiel could protest, reminding himself once again that Meg was really far too observant to be a secretary. There had to be a better use for her skills.

Castiel still felt incredibly nervous as he entered the maintenance building – what if Dean didn’t want to hear him out? What if Dean had meant to stand him up after all, and Sam was wrong?

He paused for a moment outside Naomi’s office door, causing him to almost be bowled over by a small, earnest guy in a baseball cap wearing a mailroom name tag that said, “Alfie”. 

“Oh! I’m sorry, sir, sorry, I’m running so late – sorry!” he chirped quickly, reaching down to the floor to grab the mail bag he’d dropped in surprise. The little guy was frantic and almost squirrely, not even waiting for Castiel’s forming apology before he bounded off.

Jolted out of his nervous hesitation, Castiel knocked on the door as he pushed it open.

“Naomi?” He called politely, sticking his head inside.

“Castiel,” Naomi greeted him with a deep scowl, “I hope this isn’t about Dean, because I’ve about had enough of anything to do with him today.”

Castiel blinked, “Not really, well – I was going to ask where he was, but nothing else.”

Naomi rolled her eyes, already waving Castiel out of her office. “Probably walking to the mailroom. He was in here not two minutes ago, handing in his resignation letter. Zachariah isn’t here today, so I told him to put it in his mailbox.”

This time it was Castiel that dashed away before their conversation was quite over.

Castiel’s tailored suit wasn’t exactly made for running, but he hustled through the corridors as fast as he could, to where the mail-room was located at the far end of the building. 

Crashing through the part-open door into the small, quiet room, he caused Alfie to squeak and drop a bunch of his mail again. Castiel didn’t even look at him however, all his focus on Dean. He stood next to the internal mailboxes, leaning against the small ledge beneath them to write on the front of an envelope.

“Dean,” Cas moved towards him, suddenly nervous again.

“Cas?” Dean ventured quietly, looking uncertain.

Castiel nodded. “Yes. Cas. I didn’t know, Dean.”

“You didn’t—” Dean blinked, straightening up. “But I sent—”

“—photograph, I know—” Castiel provided a few words, before cutting off again.

The conversation, if it could be called that, was a chaotic jumble. Neither of them were finishing their sentences and they kept trailing off and talking over one another, looking confused and worried.

“So, you knew—” Dean tried again.

“No, no – not until after I had already—”

Dean and Cas were moving step by step towards each other across the tiny space. Alfie watched them nervously, looking like he desperately wanted to squeeze past them but was too polite.

“I thought you didn’t—” Dean ventured, a smile starting to curl at his lip.

“No, I do, Dean – I definitely do,” Cas laughed slightly, “I thought you—”

They weren’t making any sense, but their smiles were increasing, and Castiel was struck again with just how beautiful Dean was. Even more so, because he was also the person who knew him so well and who he loved to spend time with.

They were standing only a couple of feet apart now, staring at each other.

Alfie looked fit to burst, peering awkwardly past the two of them as they blocked the door.

“I definitely do, too.” Dean offered with slightly shyer smile, reaching his hand out toward Castiel, who’s fingers came up immediately to link with his, pulling them a fraction closer. “In fact I think I—”

Castiel was nodding even as Dean spoke, a flush on his cheeks but his blue eyes sparkling excitedly. “I think I do, too, Dean.”

They were looking into each other’s eyes like a B-movie cliché, and for a fantastically heart-stopping moment, were both leaning in. 

Castiel’s lips parted just a fraction, eager, wanting to pull Dean across the tiny gap and kiss him. He wanted to finally taste his lips and feel his arms around—

“Please move!” Alfie squawked uncomfortably, bumbling in between the two of them with his stack of mail. 

He turned sideways, squeezing between the two of them and stepping out of the door, mumbling the whole time. “Sorry, sorry, sirs – just running very late, got to get the mail, sorry – sorry sirs.”

Their moment broken, Dean and Castiel looked at each other and started laughing.

“Dean,” Castiel began after a moment, smiling warmly across at him, “the reason I asked Naomi for someone else to come up to the building today was because I had a crush on our incredibly handsome, funny maintenance guy, but I had really been falling hard for someone else. So, when I decided to try and make a real go of it with them, I just wanted a little distance…”

Castiel trailed off as Dean began chuckling again, connecting the dots. 

Stepping forward, Dean threw his arms around Castiel in a tight, eager hug, speaking over his shoulder, “So you think I’m handsome, huh?”

Castiel could feel his grin even if he couldn’t see it, his arms coming up automatically to embrace Dean back. “Yes, Dean. You were a huge distraction from the very first time I saw you,” he confessed with a little chuckle.

Dean pulled back from their hug so that he could grin shyly at Castiel’s face. One hand came up to the back of his hair, rubbing at it nervously.

“Actually, the first time I saw you, Cas? Or Clarence, I thought, anyway – I dropped my screws all over the floor. It’s been a struggle not to make up an excuse to talk to you every day… and I’m pretty sure I’m wearing away the grass outside your window.”

It was Castiel’s turn to laugh then, “Oh really? I didn’t think you paid much attention to me at all. It seemed like you were always running away, actually.”

Dean grimaced. “Well, maybe you aren’t the only one who was falling for someone else.”

They stood, gazing at each other for a moment longer, before Castiel reached across into Dean’s space. Taking his hand and entwining their fingers as they had been before Alfie’s interruption, he moistened his lips. He still looked a little nervous, despite everything.

“I want to do this right, Dean. The crush I had on Dean-you, that was physical and fun and very nice, but what I felt for Armando-you? That was different. Important.”

Dean nodded awkwardly, his eyes flicking up from their entwined fingers momentarily to reassure Castiel.

“Me too, Cas. Clarence may be the hottest guy I think I’ve ever seen,” he paused for just a second to grin at Castiel’s blush, “but Castiel? Well,” Dean paused again, wetting his lips nervously, “I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with that guy. I really like you, Cas.”

When Dean looked back up again to Castiel’s face, his eyes were wide, looking fantastically blue, and his whole face was split with an adorable, gummy grin. 

Castiel just stared at him for a moment, the goofy grin refusing to fade, until he eventually cleared his throat and spoke.

“So, does this mean you’ll have dinner with me?”

Dean couldn’t help but mirror his besotted expression, “How about we skip the dinner. I can pick you up after work is done, and maybe you can finally show me that bar you’ve been trying to get me to for months? Then we can head back to my place and watch some really bad TV.”

Beaming, Castiel nodded. “That sounds perfect. As much as I hate to say it, though…”

Castiel trailed off, tilting his head to the side to indicate the mailroom door.

“We should probably get back to our jobs, and be a little more careful in case someone sees us,” Dean finished for him, regretfully.

Castiel nodded, but there was disappointment in it. Looking quickly back to door, Castiel reached out a hand to push it closed. Even as it clicked shut, his other hand reached to grab a fistfull of Dean’s overalls, yanking him across the space between them. 

Dean laughed again as they bumped up together, chest to chest, but it didn’t stop him from immediately sliding his hands around Castiel’s back to tangle in his hair. They both paused, just a hair's-breadth apart, their noises nudging together like Eskimos. 

“Dean…” Castiel whispered against his lips, blinking at Deans green eyes, which threatened to overwhelm him from so close, “I really like you, too. So if you don’t want—”

Dean silenced his with a soft peck to his lips, wrapping his arms more tightly around him. “I do, Castiel. I do want. I want everything you’re willing to offer.”

Their lips met more firmly, then, their heads tilted in sync and their hands sliding around until their fingers re-entwined. They were both equally guilty of the soft, breathless noises that fell from them as they learned each other’s taste, savoring a first kiss that felt like it had been a very, very long time coming.

They pulled apart after only a moment, though, eyes equally shining and faces flushed.

“Later?” Dean asked softly, his tongue darting out catch the last taste of Castiel from his lips.

“I’ll meet you out front at five,” Castiel confirmed with a soft, almost secret smile as he opened the door, heading back to work.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Castiel’s thumb slid repeatedly up and down the handle of his briefcase, a nervous twitch he was aware of but couldn’t quite stop. He couldn’t work out why he was so apprehensive. He and Dean had sorted out their misunderstanding. They might talk about it further, but things seemed to be okay now. Dean had said he felt the same way Castiel did, that he’d fallen for him just like he had for Armando over their long talks, texts and comfortable evenings together-but-apart. So why was he so on edge?

The corner of Castiel’s lip quirked up as he opened the front door of the Sandover building where his office was located, thinking he’d spend a moment standing in the fresh air out on the forecourt steps to calm himself. He was nervous because this mattered, he decided; Dean mattered. They’d had just one, brief kiss and it had been wonderful. But this was still, in most ways, their first date.

The feeling melted away almost immediately when a beautifully shiny classic car pulled up at the bottom of the steps. He’d heard Dean talk fondly about the car, but as his building didn’t share a parking lot with maintenance, he’d never seen it before. Castiel smiled, looking it over in appreciation as he made his way down the steps.

Dean rolled the window down, sticking his elbow and head out with a grin.

“What do you think?” Dean asked with a wink, once Castiel was close enough to hear him.

Moving around to the passenger side of the car, Castiel slid in. “Gorgeous,” he confirmed, before risking a little flirtation, “the car isn’t bad, either.”

Dean chuckled lightly in appreciation, using one hand to pull the exquisitely cared-for Impala away from the sidewalk while the other reached, somewhat hesitant, for Castiel’s hand.

“Is this okay?” Dean asked after a beat, nodding down at the fingers he was gently entwining with Castiel’s own, “I don’t really know where you want to go from here, or how fast or slow you want this to go.”

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel squeezed his hand reassuringly, “this is just fine. Honestly, that sounds like a deeper conversation we should have over a beer at the bar, but…”

He trailed for a moment, his intense blue gaze resting on Dean’s face as he navigated onto the main road.

“…I feel like we already know each other so well, skipping a few steps doesn’t feel strange. Honestly, I’m perfectly happy picking up where we left off on the phone last night.”

Castiel bit the inside of his lip slightly when he was done talking, chastising himself for being so bold. Gabriel always told him he was too forward, too blunt, just not subtle enough with this kind of stuff.

He saw Dean’s cheeks flush a little, and his eyes came away from the road for just long enough to lock onto Castiel’s, green to blue.

“You’re pretty matter-of-fact with things, aren’t you,” Dean gave Castiel a little grin and squeezed back on his hand in reassurance. “I like it.”

Castiel felt some relief at that. He’d always just been himself around Armando, when Dean was him. But he’d never been quite so concerned over whether the mystery-man would like him as he was now, now that he was here, solidly in front of him.

As if Dean could read his thoughts, he quietly added, “I like you, Cas. Don’t ever change.”

They reached the bar in the kind of companionable silence that only people who know each other well can have. Indicating to Dean that he could park around the back where the staff did, Castiel gave the car a little pat on her hood as he exited.

“I enjoyed my first ride in you, Baby,” he said to her seriously. “Here’s hoping I get many more.”

Castiel looked up to see Dean grinning at him goofily.

Spotting Gabriel’s flashy red convertible parked to their left, Castiel turned suddenly to Dean, remembering something.

“Hey, Dean – I hope this won’t make anything weird, but I met your brother today. Actually, that’s how I ended up chasing you down in the mail room, but that’s another story… anyway, it came up in conversation,” Castiel fished around in his briefcase for the keys to the bar’s back door as he talked, “that my brother Gabriel is dating your brother Sam.”

Dean blinked, then after a moment, his palm came up to smack his forehead.

“Of course he is!” he exclaimed. “Gabriel. Sam always referred to him as Gabe, so for some reason it never clicked.”

Castiel laughed, a low, rumbly sound that Dean very much enjoyed hearing. “There’s a lot of that going around,” he offered with a soft smile.

Dean stepped towards him as if drawn like a magnet to his smile. Still an almost shy motion, not familiar enough to be easy yet, Dean’s hand rose up to Castiel’s face, cupping his cheek.

“I like it when you laugh,” he confessed quietly, seeking out Castiel’s fantastically blue eyes. “Honestly, it kind of makes me want to kiss you silly.”

“I have a hunch I’d like it if you did that, Dean,” Castiel admitted openly, stepping up into Dean’s space and resting a hand on his side. “In fact, I—”

Castiel’s sentence was interrupted by the door swinging suddenly open right next to them.

“Cassie! Who’s this you’re eye-fucking on my doorstep?” Gabriel’s eyebrows wiggled dramatically, like blond comedy caterpillars.

With an exasperated, cock-blocked sigh, Castiel dropped his hand from Dean’s waist and turned slightly, indicating the short, snappily-dressed man that stood in the doorway.

“Dean, this is my brother Gabriel. The one who’s had your brothers legs around his neck for the best part of the last two months, apparently.”

Dean wrinkled his nose. “Thanks for that, Cas.”

He reached out and offered a hand to Gabriel to shake, surprised to find himself quite nervous. What if Gabriel didn’t like him? That could be awkward on two fronts, now.

Shaking his hand with a wide grin, Gabriel looked back and forth between Dean and Castiel.

“Dean, huh? Maintenance Dean?” he questioned, looking to Castiel.

With a nod, Castiel gave Gabriel the extremely condensed version. “Turns out Dean is Armando. Armando is Dean. Somehow I got lucky, I guess.”

Gabriel raised a sardonic, teasing eyebrow, turning his attention back to Dean, still holding onto his hand. “Got lucky, huh?”

“Uh—” Dean found himself flushing.

“Not yet, Gabriel,” Castiel rolled his eyes, pushing his older brother slightly into the bar so they could move out of the doorway, “and I’d appreciate if you keep your nose out of that part.”

“Spoilsport,” Gabriel muttered, moving to the side so that the two could pass before he closed the door behind them.

“Are you seeing Sam tonight, Gabe?” Castiel questioned, leading Dean through the hallway that came out behind the bar.

“I was thinking of seeing if he wanted to get dinner, but he texted earlier and said his brother had a bad day. I’m pretty sure that was him telling me I wasn’t getting any tonight.” Gabriel sighed as he moved behind the bar, picking up a rag that sat on the surface. He started wiping the top down, as if resuming what he’d been doing when he heard them at the door.

Dean chuckled. “Well, as I am Sam’s brother,” he reminded Gabriel, “I can tell you that my bad day had a pretty good turnaround, so I think your dinner plans are probably back on.”

Gabriel’s wiping slowed, thoughtfully. “So, we’re both dating Winchesters,” he indicated between Dean and Castiel with his rag, “or at least, I’m assuming that’s what this is.”

Dean and Castiel looked at each other, the tiniest bit of uncertainty quickly brushed away with their matching smiles.

“It is,” Castiel confirmed.

“You know, there are websites that—”

“Gross, Gabriel,” Castiel squeezed his eyes closed briefly before ushering Dean around to the other side of the bar. “You know, Dean doesn’t know you well enough to know that you’re joking, so please shut up. Oh, and go call Sam, assbutt.”

Laughing, Gabriel threw his rag at Castiel before moving towards the door that led to the kitchens at the back.

“Just be good in my bar, lovebirds. I’ll take Sam back to mine tonight… just in case you do get lucky after all, Dean-o,” he threw over his shoulder with a wink.

“Dean-o?” Dean raised an eyebrow at Castiel, but couldn’t help smile.

“That means he likes you, usually. But with him, it’s hard to tell.”

 

***

 

Dean pulled Baby up in front of a large, nondescript apartment building. It wasn’t in the best part of town, but Castiel had been in worse, so he didn’t say anything that might hurt Dean’s feelings. He knew that Dean and Sam had only been in town a couple of months, perhaps only a week or two longer than they’d known each other, and they were still finding their feet.

Castiel didn’t deliberately wait in the car for Dean to exit, but he was distracted taking in the street and the night around them. By the time he turned, Dean had opened the passenger side door and was offering him a hand.

Castiel grinned up at him. “Quite the gentleman, Dean.”

“For you?” Dean winked. “I think it’s probably worth it.”

Castiel laughed, taking Deans offered hand and sliding out of the car.

They had sat at the bar all night, just talking. They didn’t drink more than a beer each, because as Dean put it, “I have to drive my Baby home. I don’t leave her in strange parking lots overnight, Castiel.”

They hadn’t done much beyond simply enjoy being together, being able to talk without a phone between them. Conversation came very easily, which made sense. They’d spoken every single day, about everything under the sun, for a couple of months. They were part of each others lives, already.

Occasionally their thighs would brush, or Castiel would reach for Dean’s hand and turn it, mapping out a scar that accompanied a story. They’d laughed at something silly and Dean’s fingers had instinctively reached out to Castiel’s temple, pushing back a dark, flopping curl of his wild hair. They’d nudged at each other with shoulders or elbows as they teased, and when Dean rose to run to the bathroom before they left, he’d left a kiss on Castiel’s cheek that hadn’t even registered until he opened the stall door.

When he came back, he’d thought to mention it, but Castiel simply linked their fingers together with a smile as they headed to the car.

He did it again now as they climbed the stairs to Dean’s apartment, a tiny gesture that somehow already felt like a little loss when Dean let go to reach into his pocket for his keys. Letting Castiel inside, he reached across to his shoulders, helping him out of his suit jacket and hanging it like it belonged.

Because Castiel belonged, right here, and realizing it didn’t even feel like a revelation. They just… were.

“Dean?”

Registering that he’d been staring, Dean grinned. “Sorry. I was just thinking that this evening has been great so far and… well, really easy, honestly.”

Castiel didn’t respond, gazing back at Dean similarly as if that was his whole answer. His eyes looked so very blue in the fluorescent lights, it took Dean a few long seconds to pull himself away from them.

Taking a few steps from the doorway into the apartment, Dean smirked.

“So, would you like a tour?”

Castiel stepped up next to him with a gummy smile. “Of course.”

Dean didn’t move even a step, he just pointed. First, to a door to their right. “That’s my brother Sam’s room, that over there—” he turned, pointing to another white door to the left, “—is the bathroom. This is the kitchen,” Dean paused to slowly spin around, indicating the small kitchenette they stood in, “and that is the living room,” he finished, pointing about two feet in front of them.

Castiel laughed, nudging against Dean’s side. “Great tour. In-depth.”

Dean winked, leaning slightly to one side to crowd into Castiel’s space, whispering for some added drama, “I haven’t pointed out my favorite parts. That—” he indicated the most dented corner of the old couch, piled high with pillows, “—is where I sit to watch TV with you.”

Reaching down to grip at Castiel’s hand again, he pulled him through the four-foot wide kitchen to another door, next to the living room.

“And this,” he announced when they got to the doorway, merely swinging it open rather than going inside, “is my room.”

Castiel stood slightly behind Dean. His eyes trailed over the simple blue blankets and curtains, the bed made neatly even though it was fairly plain. A small pine bookcase, a little pine nightstand. There was nothing special about it, but Castiel’s eyes lit up.

“So,” Castiel slid up behind Dean, his arms finding his waist as his chin hooked over his shoulder, “this is where you were last night, talking to me?”

Dean’s lips curled coyly. “I don’t think they call that talking, Cas.”

Cas laughed again, deep and rumbly. His chest vibrated against Dean’s back, and Dean couldn’t help but turn. He reached to Castiel’s face, scooping his hand along his jaw.

“Didn’t I tell you that your laugh makes me want to kiss you silly?” Dean teased, his other hand reaching down to Castiel’s waist as he came face to face with him.

Castiel’s toothy grin was wolfish as he crowded into Dean’s space. Dean felt the doorframe pressing into his back, and Castiel’s endless blue eyes were suddenly close again. “Please do.”

Dean’s heart thumped as he tasted Castiel again, their lips coming together slowly at first. Finally, with no interruptions or important discussions to have, Dean got his hands all the way up Castiel’s back to tangle in his fantastically messy hair.

They began with soft kisses, their lips parting, breathy and insistent. Dean felt like something was melting inside him as he watched Castiel’s eyelashes flutter shut, losing himself in it. The slide of their lips was perfection for a long moment, nothing else needed.

The feel of Castiel’s strong hands sliding up his ribcage could have undone Dean alone. Craving his taste, Dean slowly moved his tongue along Castiel’s bottom lip, requesting entry. His mouth was hot, and Dean felt the fire in his chest rise to even out the temperature.

“Cas—” Dean found himself gasping, much quicker than he thought they’d get to this point, “—can we?”

Dean turned his eyes to the bed, a silent addendum to his question.

Sliding his hands around Dean to his back, Castiel rested his palms on the cheeks of his ass. Castiel’s smile was entirely too cautious to match the action, gazing up across the bare inch or so of their height difference. He looked at Dean for a moment, his eyes flicking visibly back and forth as they covered Dean’s green eyes, his freckles, the beginnings of wrinkles at his temples.

“Dean,” he began almost hesitantly, “you said earlier you were pretty sure you were in love with me. Are you sure enough for me to take you to that bed? Because I’m _very_ sure that once I get in it with you, I won’t ever want to leave. Things could get serious pretty fast.”

The butterflies that had been building in Dean for days burst out of him then, fully formed.

“Yes, Cas,” Dean untangled one hand from the hair at the back of Castiel’s neck to bring it around to his chest, his fingers spread over the fabric of Castiel’s white work shirt. His palm sat above Castiel’s heart as he confidently replied, “I love you. I’ve known for a while. I _want_ things to be serious with you, Cas. I’m just much better at showing it than talking about it.” Dean paused for just a second while he leaned in close to Castiel’s ear. “So please, please… let me show you. I want you to fuck me, Cas. Please...”

It only took one “please” for Castiel’s palms to slide the rest of the way down Dean’s ass, cupping under his thighs and hoisting Dean up in a sharp movement. Instinctively, Dean wrapped his legs around Castiel’s waist as they moved into the bedroom.

One hand around Dean’s back to support him, the other came up to Dean’s face as Castiel tumbled them down to the bed, the mattress sinking under Dean’s back.

“I love you too, Dean.”


	12. Epilogue

**~ 1 Year Later ~**

 

There was a large crowd packed into the committee room at the Sandover headquarters. A lot of them were there by invitation, others because they had caught wind of what was going to happen today, and merely wanted to watch.

Dean was in the men's bathroom down the hall, breathing calming, meditative breaths into the mirror and straightening his tie. Despite not being used to wearing a suit at all, he looked great in it - a fact which Castiel took a moment to appreciate as he waited near the door.

“Dean,” Castiel smiled across after a minute, moving to slide his arms around his fiance’s waist from behind. He leaned over his shoulder, smiling proudly against Dean’s cheek. “Come on, _mi amor._ You look perfect, and you don’t want to keep people waiting. _”_

Slotting their fingers together, Castiel pulled Dean out of the restroom and toward the waiting crowd in the large meeting room.

Waving from the front row were Sam and Gabriel, dressed up to the nines and grinning.

“I didn’t know Gabriel was coming,” Dean hissed at Castiel as he moved toward the podium.

“Are you kidding? No way he’d miss this. Besides, he has to give us the keys to the bar before they leave.”

Dean nodded, giving Castiel one last look before he stepped up onto the small raised platform that served as a speaking stage. He tapped gently on the microphone, testing it, and grinned out at the crowd.

“Good evening, everyone.”

A small round of applause and some shouted greetings flew his way, punctuated by totally unnecessary wolf-whistles from Sam, Gabriel, and Castiel.

“Thank you for coming to the first meeting of our new financial year. As I’m sure you all remember from voting day—” Dean’s eyes moved out across the front row, to where a sour-faced Bartholomew Styne sat, “—My name is Dean Winchester, and for the past four months I have been the head of the Maintenance Division of Sandover, since Zachariah Styne’s early retirement. I am here today to accept the committee position that you all so kindly nominated me for.”

There were more whoops and hollers; Bartholomew looked even more irritated.

“Can the rest of the committee members join me on stage, please?”

Sam, as head of the IT Department, rose from his seat and made his way to the stage. An older lady stepped up to represent Legal, and a young brunette took to the stage for the Logistics Division. Castiel headed up to join Sam, as the newly promoted company Chief of Finance, after nine long years.

“Thank you,” Dean nodded to them, before turning back to the crowd of employees, “I would like to open business by bringing my first item to the table as a member of this committee.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out his carefully folded papers.

“Already ratified by two other committee members,” Dean caught Sam and Castiel exchanging a very unprofessional high-five in his peripheral vision, “I would like to present a proposal for an entirely new Sandover International Employee and Client Anti-Discrimination Policy. This policy will help protect employees from unfair treatment as a result of race, gender, sexuality, religion, ethnicity or age, as well as ensuring all clients are treated just as equally as all employees should be.”

There were already some cheers from the back of the room, from employees Dean had very carefully picked out and encouraged to come and support his new proposal. He could see Bartholomew's expression darkening, and for a moment, their eyes met. It only took a moment before the CEO’s gaze dropped, defeated. There was nothing he could do without seeming like he _wanted_ to screw over every employee; the policy had already made it past the committee.

Dean and Castiel had already won.

 

***

 

“I’m so proud of you,” Castiel squeezed Dean tight as they stepped out of the building into the fresh night air with their brothers.

The four men made their way down into the company parking lot, where Gabriel’s slightly obnoxious red car was parked next to the Impala. The convertible was covered in rainbow-colored streamers.

“Thank you, Cas.” Dean pressed a kiss to his fiance's cheek as they all stopped. “I couldn’t have done any of it without you.”

“Or you,” Dean added, turning to give Sam a hearty slap on the shoulder.

“Hey, what about me?” Gabriel piped up with a shit-eating grin. “If I hadn’t opened up Casa2, _none_ of this would have happened, you know.”

Rolling his eyes, but unable to argue, Dean pulled his new brother-in-law across into a hug. “Thank you too, Gabe. Now - don’t you two have somewhere to be?”

“Yes we do,” Sam grinned, grabbing Gabriel’s hand. “Pass over those keys, Gabe - you are not going to even _think_ about that bar for two weeks.”

With a flourish, Gabriel produced a bundle of keys from his pocket and tossed them at Castiel, moving towards the driver's seat.

“Happy honeymoon, guys!” Dean yelled after the convertible as it tore away from the building, streamers flapping.

“I’m glad they made time to come,” Castiel bumped against Dean’s shoulder as they moved to the Impala. “You deserve to have people witness your success. What’s your next plan? Complete company takeover? Change the town flag to pink, purple and blue stripes?”

Laughing, Dean slipped into Baby’s front seat, winking at Castiel as they sorted their seatbelts and keyed the engine to life. “My next plan is to take you home so you can congratulate me more thoroughly, if that’s acceptable to you,” he said with a perfectly innocent face.

Castiel grinned coyly, “Oh, _Si, Armando.”_

  


~ The End ~


End file.
